A Mile in his Shoes
by Crazed Fuzzle
Summary: COMPLETE! Remy no longer wants anything to do with Magneto, but the Master of Metal is not so willing to let him go. In an attempt to blackmail the Xmen into returning him, he kidnaps Rogue...Who finds that not everything is as it seems...
1. Prelude to a murder

Disclaimer: Don't own it, wish I did, same as everyone on this forsaken website.

A/N: I don't really have much to say at the moment, so I'll make this quick. Don't get the wrong impression from this first chapter; I'm a 100 percentRomy fan, so there is nothing between Jean and Gambit. I just needed someone who would actually help him out (othewise I wouldn't have a story), and Jean was that person. Her character's actually pretty fun to write.

Here's a shoutout to my lazy bum of my sister, who I have to thank for saving this chapter on the computer with a printer before my own computer died, and also pretended to edit my story but only ended up changing two things.

Prologue:

Prelude to a Murder

Jean Grey had been the kind of person that was easy to envy. She was the former star of the soccer team. She had outstanding grades. She was one of the most beautiful girls in school—long red hair, a delicate-yet-determined face, good fashion sense, and a nice body. Her ex-boyfriend was the captain of the football team. She had been popular. Even people that hated her—for example, her team-mate Rogue—could only find fault in the fact that she was so darned perfect.

Keywords: had been. Right up to the point when the world had discovered that she was a mutant.

Not to say that she regretted being a mutant. Certainly she had those days when she wished that her powers would just go to hell, but most of the time she didn't particularly mind, and there were occasions that compensated for the trouble they gave her. It didn't matter whether or not she liked them anyway—they were there to stay, and nothing she could do would change that. So she tried to look at the positives rather than the negatives whenever she could.

But at the moment the negatives were pelting her with spitballs, so she was finding it rather hard to look at the positives.

It had not been a good day for Jean Grey. She had woken up to find that she had overslept her alarm and only had ten minutes to get ready for school. Then _someone_—she wasn't naming names—had bampfed into the kitchen a little too close for her liking and had caused her to completely drench the front of her white shirt in milk. Right in front of Scott. She had had to go change, then had ended up taking her own car to school because a.) she had been volunteered to pick up a few things at the store after school and b.) even if she hadn't, she had missed her ride with everyone else. Following being late from school, other unpleasant events included: falling asleep in the middle of a test, having forgotten an essay for English, having a few of her textbooks go conspicuously missing (she had found them in a trashcan in the girls' bathroom), and being pushed into a puddle during gym, which would have been fine other than the fact that she had lost her balance and now her butt was soaking wet and it looked like she had lost control of her bladder. And now this.

"Come on, mutie, why don't you fight back?"

"I bet she's scared of us _normal_ people."

"She should be! Once that mutant registration law is passed, she's gonna be in deep shit."

Jean gritted her teeth and looked straight ahead, trying to ignore the group of punks that was intent on harassing her all the way out the doors of the school. They were immature little bigots, she reminded herself firmly. She knew that they wanted her to react, that getting angry would just be playing into their hands, but it was getting pretty hard to continue pretending that they weren't there. In fact, she was sorely tempted to use her powers to deflect the projectiles right back at them, but that would set a bad example for the younger students. Sometimes it was a real drag to be so responsible—there was so much pressure on her never to do anything wrong that the idiom "To err is human" seemed obsolete. Besides, she wasn't technically human, so it wasn't really applicable anyway.

A spitball suddenly stopped its rapid trajectory, hovering at eyelevel an inch away from its target, similar to the way many of its brethren halted in their flight wherever they happened to be. To heck with showing restraint. She had just stepped out of the doors to the school, and she supposed that it wouldn't be such a crime to defend herself outside. She let the projectiles drop to the sidewalk around her and turned to face her tormentors.

"Grow up," she instructed. "If you want to go around making fun of people because of the way they were born, that's your business. But one of these days you're going to make fun of the wrong person. Not all mutants are as nice as I am."

She turned back around abruptly and made a beeline for her car. At the moment she wished that she could go straight back to the mansion with the others, but she had promised to pick up a few things from the store before she went home. That was the price you paid for being a nice person, she reasoned. Sometimes it really sucked, but somebody had to do it.

She slammed the door behind her and fired the ignition. Jean wasn't nearly as cool and collected as everyone made her out to be. If one of her friends had been able to see half of the thoughts that went through her mind, they probably wouldn't believe it was her; she didn't even want to know how much the Professor saw. She had a pretty bad temper, actually—she just had to be careful to keep it under control. There was no telling what would happen if a telepath got _really_ mad, so she did her best to make sure that she didn't get too carried away. Sometimes though, she couldn't help being irritated, and today had been a bad day for her, starting from the moment she had woken up.

Her mood didn't improve when she was forced to park in one of the parking spaces that was nowhere near the entrance of the store. She went in and out as quickly as she could manage, nearly running over several customers as she tried to find the locations of the various necessities she had promised to buy. Unfortunately, her luck had not improved since she had left school, and the checkout lines were unbelievably long. The redhead sighed and waited as patiently as she could manage for the little old lady in front of her to finish loading her selections onto the conveyor belt, then pay, then get everything back into her cart. Finally it was her turn, and thankfully there was no trouble paying for everything. When she finally made it back to the car, she was so relieved to be able to go home that she simply sat behind the wheel for five minutes not doing anything but being relieved.

With a lift in spirits Jean finally turned the key and headed out of the parking lot. Maybe things weren't so bad after all, maybe when she got back home her day would get better…

An explosion several streets down caused her to slam on the brakes.

…or maybe not.

In her mind, two factions warred: the responsible part of her wanted to go see what was wrong, see if she could do anything to help; the selfish part just wanted to go home and relax. Much as she hated it, the responsible part inevitably won out.

Jean parked the car at the side of the street and took off running in the direction of the explosion. There was no doubt in her mind where she was going, especially since a number of smaller explosions continued to erupt as she made her way to the trouble area.

She turned a corner and it became immediately obvious what had been causing the explosions. Or rather, _who_ had been causing the explosions.

It took Jean a moment to recognize all of them; one of them, a feral man with long, tangled blond hair, was easy: Sabertooth. The other two she knew to be Magneto's as well, but she needed to think a moment to be able to know Pyro (the one with the yellow and red costume, gas tank on his back, and fire) and Gambit (the one with the long trench coat and the black and reddish costume). Coincidentally, Gambit was also the one with exploding playing cards.

After that first moment of recognition, it took Jean another moment to realize that they weren't destroying anything purposely. They were fighting each other, Pyro and Sabertooth against Gambit.

"Gambit don't want to fight you, _homme,_" the Cajun was saying, trying to appeal to his team-mate while also trying to dodge Sabertooth's attack. The telekinetic could only assume that he knew better than to bother with talking to Sabertooth, and mentally applauded his common sense.

"Sorry mate, I don't wanna fight you either," the one who was named for his obsession as well as his power professed. "But you know how it goes. Boss-man says the word, and who'm I to disagree?"

"You don't have t'do dis," Gambit tried again, sending one of his signature playing cards in Sabertooth's direction.

"I wouldn't if you came with me peaceful-like," Pyro retorted, at the same time calling a ball of fire into his palm.

Jean did not like where this was going. Certainly Gambit was one of the X-men's enemies, but something was wrong here. From what she gathered, Magneto was having Sabertooth and Pyro force Gambit to come with them, and that did not sit well with her. Why would Magneto have to _force_ his own Acolyte to work for him? Yes, something was definitely wrong here. The question was, what could she do about it?

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend," she muttered before stepping into full view of the street just as Pyro let loose a jet of flame at the other Acolyte. Without a second thought, Jean brought up her hands, palm outward, and held them there. Immediately the fire halted in its tracks, so much like the spitballs that had annoyed her earlier that afternoon. She would have laughed at the comparison, but now the attention of all three men was focused on her.

"Oy, what's with the sheila?" Pyro wanted to know. Of course, this was just the distraction that Sabertooth needed. Before the "sheila" could react, he roared and stabbed Gambit in the stomach with some sharp object that she couldn't make out from here. Even as the seemingly betrayed man yelled in pain and doubled over, she took action.

With a sweeping gesture, Jean threw both of her opponents against the brick wall of a convenient building, then violently into a nearby dumpster, and mentally slammed the lid. She knew that it would not hold them for long, and that she should probably do a more thorough job of at least knocking them unconscious, but at the moment she knew that Gambit probably needed medical attention.

Still holding the lid of the dumpster closed with her mind, Jean ran to where her former enemy was doubled over in pain. Slightly hesitant and unsure of what to do, she offered him her hand. He looked at it strangely.

"Look, that dumpster's not going to keep them forever," she told him, forgoing pleasantries. "I know you're hurt, but we've got to get out of here as quickly as we can."

After another moment of hesitation, Gambit grabbed her hand with the one not clutching his stomach and allowed her to pull him up. Without waiting to ask for permission, he slung his arm around her shoulder to use as a crutch.

"Why you helpin' Gambit?" he asked suspiciously as they made their way to Jean's car. She thought for a moment before answering. Why _had_ she helped Gambit? At the moment it had seemed like the obvious thing to do, but now her own reasoning was unclear to her.

"Because you needed help," she told him simply. Soon she realized that this would not be enough. "You were being attacked by two people that are supposed to be on your side. That makes me think that either you or the other two changed your minds about working with Magneto. I'm taking a chance and guessing that it was you."

"Dat be a good guess, _mademoiselle_. Dat be a very good guess," he told her noncommittally as she helped him into the passenger's seat, although she chose to hope that he was agreeing with her. She got behind the wheel and started the engine, ready to rocket; she was willing to bet that Sabertooth had managed to break out of his odorous prison by now, and Pyro with him.

"Where you goin'?" he asked as she stepped on the gas.

"To the Institute," was her immediate response. Although she couldn't tell while watching the road, Gambit narrowed his red and black eyes.

"Why you doin' dat? You not afraid dat Gambit's gonna spy on you?"

"You need medical attention," she informed him. "I don't think that you're going to find it in too many hospitals around here, not with eyes like those. Besides, you're not in any shape to spy at the moment."

There was silence for a few minutes as Jean neared the entrance to the giant estate. Remembering that it might be a good idea to explain why on earth she was helping one of Magneto's lackeys onto Institute grounds, she reached out with her mind.

_Professor?_ She inquired tentatively, hoping that she wasn't catching him at a bad time.

_Yes Jean_? The response came almost immediately, and she felt the tiniest bit of relief sweep over her.

_Professor, Magneto's men were attacking one of his Acolytes, and he's badly injured. I'm taking him back to the Institute with me, if that's alright with you._

_One of his Acolytes? But why…_ the Professor's mental voice trailed off, apparently deep in thought.

_One of them mentioned that they were supposed to bring him back to Magneto,_ she offered, hoping that what little she had in way of explanation would be enough. _I get the feeling that the one they were attacking—Gambit—had decided that he didn't like Magneto's dream after all._

_Indeed…Yes Jean, you may bring him here. I'll send Logan to help you bring him to the medical bay. Just try not to let any of the other students see him. I'm not entirely sure how they will react to one of the Acolytes being with us, if only for the time being._

_Thank you Professor,_ she told him and cut off the link just as she drove through the gate. She brought her car around the circle and as close to the front door as she could manage and shut off the engine. If the Professor didn't want Gambit being seen, then they should probably wait in the car until Logan came down to take the man to the Med Bay. The wait wasn't long, and soon the gruff Canadian opened the door. Just as he did so, Gambit chuckled a little bit. Jean looked at him, surprised that he could laugh in his condition.

"What are you laughing about?" she asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

"m just t'inkin' dat de River Rat not gonna be too happy t' see Gambit again," he told her with a lopsided grin. She furrowed her eyebrows, still not sure what was so funny when Logan jerked the passenger door open.

"We can do this one of two ways, bub," he growled, suspicious of the Acolyte despite the Professors good will. "You can walk or I can carry you. What's it gonna be?"

"Gambit will walk, t'ank you," Gambit told him with all the dignity he could muster as he got out of the car. Jean grabbed her bags and stepped out as well. As the two men walked away, Gambit leaning heavily on the X-man, he paused for a moment and threw over his shoulder, "I t'ink you call er Rogue."

Jean stopped in her tracks and watched Wolverine help Gambit inside, too stunned to do anything else. How could she have forgotten? Her memories of the "kidnapping" flooded back to her, and she came to one very important conclusion.

Rogue was going to kill her.

Her day just kept getting worse.


	2. Why it Sucks to be Bored

Insert a sufficiently witty disclaimer here, because no matter how you phrase it, I still don't own X-men (or Pride and Prejudice for that matter. Or, if you want to get really nit-picky, the Macarena or the TV Guide Channel or any of the various cinematic references I make in this chapter. But kudos to anyone who can figure out all of the shows I put in!).

A/N: Has anyone else noticed that it's become a trend in fics like these to have Gambit injured and forced to go to the X-men? I'm actually quite shocked at the fact that I have allowed myself to be carried along with the stereotype. But no more! I mustn't let myself be sucked into that swirling black vortex of monotony! Expect plot twists!

I've also realized that my story fits nowhere on the official timeline. Blame it on the stupid channel that I'm stuck watching Evo on; they play everything out of order! How was I supposed to know that Jean and Scott had graduated and that Jubilee had left before Cajun Spice? Gr…so please, just bear with me here and pretend that this works.

Much thanks to everyone who reviewed. My first story (which, by the way, you should check out) didn't get as many reviews in its first few _months_ of being out there, so it really means a lot to me. I'm glad so many of you liked the way I portrayed Jean, and I must say that I had fun writing her character. But just out of curiosity, if you usually dislike Jean and you liked my portrayal of her, doesn't that mean that she's OOC? Just wondering. And for future reference, do y'all think it's better to put review responses at the beginning or the end of a chapter? I know it's silly, but I can't decide ; )

Without further ado, here's the story! (It's sort of taken on a mind of its own… nothing turned out like I thought it would, and I'm willing to bet that things aren't how you think they're gonna be. Oh, right, no further ado. Sorry.)

Chapter 1:

Why it Sucks to be Bored

Rogue smiled somewhat uncharacteristically and flopped on her bed. It had been a more or less good day, which surprised her a little, but she wasn't one to say no to a good thing. She had become accustomed to the daily hordes of people taunting her with everything they could think of long before they had learned she was a mutant, so that was nothing new. However, today their number had been fewer than normal, and she could only hope that they had decided she was a lost cause. Not that it was a realistic hope, mind, but that didn't stop her from dreaming; they had probably just gone off to find a more responsive target.

She glanced briefly at her room-mate and shook her head unbelievingly. That was another thing: Kitty was actually _reading_. As in, of her own free will. Not that Rogue exactly approved of her reading material, _Pride and Prejudice_. She thought that the storyline sounded rather frivolous, but she supposed that as long as it got Kitty reading, then she shouldn't be complaining.

However, at the moment she wanted to complain. It was quite the reversal of roles, actually. Normally she was the one reading and Kitty was the one that did the pestering, trying to get her to do something entertaining. Not to say that she was pestering; she had been at the receiving end often enough to know how it felt to be interrupted in the middle of what she considered a good book. But she was sorely tempted to pester, as her good mood was being replaced fairly quickly with boredom.

This was silly. How often had she actually gotten bored enough to bug Kitty for something to do? The answer was, at least as far as she could recall, never. Maybe she should go downstairs, where there were actually people. At least then she could get some entertainment from watching the real-life soap opera that was life at the Xavier Institute. Her smile had now turned wry; yes, there was definitely something weird about today if she actually wanted to go be social.

With a resigned sigh she got off her bed and left her shared room, and was rewarded with not a glance from the girl that was curled up with a book. Did she act like that whenever she had found a good read? She supposed that she probably did, but then again it probably wasn't so darn _weird_ for her to be antisocial as it was for Kitty. She shook her head and closed the door behind her.

Not quite feeling like going downstairs yet, the brown-and-white haired girl resigned herself to meandering aimlessly down the halls of the vast mansion. If someone were to stop her she wouldn't have a clue what to tell them about what she was doing, and they would probably find it suspicious, but then again she would probably tell them that it was none of their business anyway.

Her random wandering led her past the door to Professor Xavier's office. With another wry smile she wondered how many students had been lured into eavesdropping just by wandering around and hearing something interesting coming from inside the Professor's office.

"…don't trust him," came Logan's unmistakable growl from behind the heavy wooden doors. Rogue mentally cursed for jinxing herself by asking that mental question. She was sorely tempted to stand outside and listen, but she knew that she would regret it later; whenever anyone stopped to eavesdrop, they always did. Besides, it wasn't anything new for Wolverine not to trust anyone. He could be talking about something as simple as a student lying to get away with a prank.

"Ah'm not listening, Ah'm not listening," she muttered as she walked as quickly past the doors as she could. Underneath the sound of her voice she could hear the rise and fall of the Professor's pleasant, educated accent, followed by Ororo's.

"…how Rogue will take it." The end of the African native's sentence drifted to the subject's ears as if trying to entice her back from the several yards she had progressed past the doorway. Rogue growled and continued walking, unsure why she was so determined not to eavesdrop, but determined nonetheless.

"Ah don't see why everyone's out ta get me!" She exclaimed quietly. "Ah try and do the right thing by not snoopin', and what do they do? They go and talk about me!"

"Woah, Rogue, take it easy," a young male's voice requested of her. She looked up briefly to see that she had nearly run into a very disgruntled-looking Bobby as he rounded the corner. "I knew I was having a bad hair day, but I didn't know it was _that_ bad."

"Take it from me Bobby, it's _always_ that bad," she retorted good-naturedly and continued on her way. Before going around the corner, however, she added, "And don't you even think about listenin' in on the Professor's conversation." She didn't know whether he would have in the first place or whether her demand would produce the opposite result, but she didn't particularly care. If he eavesdropped just to spite her, then the news would be all over the Institute in no time flat anyway and she wouldn't have a guilty conscience for the knowledge.

When she finally started paying attention to where her feet were taking her, she was already well on her way to being in the kitchen. Not even bothering to try to redirect her path, she resigned herself to the fact that she would have to come into contact with people in the near future. In any case, wandering around the mansion with no destination did little to relieve boredom.

The kitchen was relatively calm at the moment—Jean, who was the only one present, was apparently cleaning up after some sort of cooking project—but she knew that it wouldn't last for long. Little as she liked the redhead's company, she pulled out a chair and sat down to wait for the inevitable chaos to arrive. Surprisingly however, Jean made an effort to start a conversation before it did.

"Oh, Rogue, I just finished making some cookies," the telepath informed her too cheerfully, confirming her suspicions that something culinary was afoot. However, Rogue always thought that the girl was too cheerful, so she let it slide. "When they're done baking I'll let you have some."

"Uh…sure, thanks," the antisocial teen replied somewhat hesitantly. This was very unusual; why _wouldn't_ Jean let her have cookies? An appropriately awkward silence followed this statement, and despite her dislike for the older girl, Rogue thought frantically for something to say to fill the silence. She wasn't in the mood to be reclusive at the moment. "Hey, you need some help cleaning up?" she offered. It wasn't the best conversation starter, certainly, but it was better than nothing and the only thing she could think of.

"What? No, that's okay, I don't need help, really," was the quickly blurted reply. Rogue narrowed her eyes slightly. Yes, something was definitely going on with Jean; normally she would have leapt at the opportunity to have some "quality bonding time" with the girl that constantly tried to shun her. She pursed her violet-painted lips thoughtfully.

"You okay?" she inquired. "You seem a little…Ah dunno…" she trailed off for lack of an appropriate adjective that wouldn't seem rude. She mentally kicked herself again; since when had she cared whether or not she was rude to Jean? But either Jean knew where Rogue was going or her psychic abilities gave her a helpful boost, and she picked up where the brunette had left off.

"I'm just not having a very good day is all," she said with a sigh, letting the mixing bowl that she had been scrubbing drop back into the soapy water. "It's no big deal, really. I'm not going to bother you with—"

"If Ah was in my right mind today Ah'd probably tell you to shove it," Rogue surprised herself by saying. Jean looked up sharply; apparently she was surprised with her bluntness as well. "But Ah'm not, and Ah'm probably gonna regret this later, but Ah'll risk tellin' you anyway. It gets pretty darn annoying with you bein' little miss perfect and never complainin'. It's okay to get it off your chest every once in a while, y'know." She stopped herself purposefully, reminding herself that she was supposed to hate Jean's guts. But the reminder was only half-hearted at the moment, so she made do with an almost friendly conclusion. "Just make sure it's not around me unless it's somethin' Ah'll actually sympathize with."

"Er…thanks, I think," Jean stuttered uncertainly. Despite the fact that her mortal (or at least part-time) enemy was caught so off-guard, Rogue herself felt awkward. What on earth had she been trying to prove, giving that little speech? Jean might start to think that she actually _liked _her! Still, it had felt kind of good to be the one doing the emotional encouragement for a change instead of being on the receiving end. But she wasn't supposed to like Jean!

The battle between two voices in her head was more than she could withstand for the moment, so the southerner retreated behind her tried and true methods. She would sort things out later, when she didn't have an audience. For now…

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it," she gritted out. "Ah'm in a good mood today, and you know how often _that_ happens." An expression chased its way across Jean's face so quickly that she was barely even certain that it had been there. Was she imagining things, or had that been…guilt? Another question for another time. It probably didn't even matter anyway. "Hey, where is everybody anyway? Not that Ah'm complainin', mind, but usually by now this place is a war zone."

"I threatened to make Jubilee cook for the next month if they didn't get out of the kitchen," she admitted somewhat sheepishly. "I think most of them are in the rec. room channel surfing."

"No wonder this place is a ghost town," Rogue muttered, wincing somewhat in memory of the last time Jubilee had attempted to make dinner. And they had thought that Kitty was bad… "Well, as lovely as your company is, Ah think Ah'll go find Kurt. See ya!"

Rogue did her best to keep her thoughts quiet as she exited the kitchen; her excuse about finding her "little brother" was a total lie, but she didn't think she could stand being alone with Jean for too much longer. She could only hope that the older girl didn't pick up on the fact that she was bluffing

This time her feet took her to the rec. room where, just as Jean had predicted, a large number of teenagers were lounging and channel surfing. It was unclear at the moment who had the remote, but whoever it was actually hesitated for a few moments whenever the show looked slightly promising as opposed to flipping for the sake of flipping. This relieved Rogue somewhat; maybe if she was lucky they would decide on something to watch in the near future. She couldn't stand channel surfing unless she was the one doing it.

Flip

A cartoon creature that resembled a leprechaun—in looks and accent—was floating and lecturing someone on the ground. "…thought I was crazy Urameshi, but you take the prize. The heck was that? Y'don't make bombs go boom in your…"

Flip

"…numbers of people have succumbed to this strange new disease," an anchorwoman was telling the camera. "Victims are left weak and drained of energy, and many have fallen into comas. While the origins of this outbreak are unknown at the moment, it appears to be highly contagious and doctors advise that anyone suffering from the following symptoms go to a hospital immediately…"

Flip

"…good! You've burned all our food, our shade, our RUM!" a fellow in a costume that screamed "pirate" was telling the only other person in sight, a frustrated looking young woman who was feeding a bonfire.

"Yes Jack, the rum is gone."

"Why is the rum gone?"

Flip

Now an extremely cheesy soap opera occupied the screen. They watched the bawling lady that seemed to be the star of it for a few seconds before the channel changed once more to a man in a suit talking to a woman in a hospital bed.

"…was no Luke—that's for sure. Why do you want to know about Eddie?" the woman in the bed was saying. The remote holder was clearly intrigued, because they didn't change the channel.

"That's official FBI business." The man, presumably an FBI agent, pulled out a red rose. "I want to congratulate you on this blessed event."

"Thank you. May the Force be with you." The agent left the room and slumped against the wall. However, upon seeing a man walking down the corridor that looked eerily like him, he left in a hurry.

Rogue was beginning to be interested in this show, and it rang a bell somewhere in her memory. She tried to place it for a moment, then shrugged and returned her attention to the screen, where the agent was once more in the woman's room and hanging up his cell phone.

"I was just here," he told the woman in the hospital bed. "Where did I go?"

Flip

"Haven't y'all ever heard of the TV Guide Channel?" Rogue asked somewhat irritatedly, leaning on the doorframe. No, channel surfing definitely was not her idea of a good time. Even bored, she would not stoop that low.

"But that's not as fun!" Jubilee protested as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Rogue rolled her eyes.

"Whatevah," she told the crowd around the television. "If y'all got nothin' better to do than sit around flippin' channels, Ah'm outta here." There was no immediate response, so with an exasperated sigh she turned and left them to their vegetableistic lifestyle.

Walking away from the room that had been her original destination, Rogue pondered her options. Where could she go, what could she do? She oh-so-briefly considered the Danger Room, but no matter what anyone said she wasn't that crazy. Logan tortured them enough when practice was required; why would she want to inflict that on herself of her own free will? She considered finding one of the non-television addicted students to talk to, but she couldn't remember who all was watching, so that would be a waste of time. She could go to the library, but she didn't feel like reading and she seriously doubted that anyone would be there. So where could she go?

With surprise she noticed that her feet were taking her someplace again. She reveled in the newly discovered fact that her feet had minds of their own, then tried to figure out where they were taking her. Soon enough, that became obvious: the Med Bay. Of course! Mr. McCoy almost always had something to talk about. She wondered if she would be interrupting one of his many experiments, but shrugged it off. Even if she did, he wouldn't be terribly upset unless she really wrecked something. She made a mental note not to wreck anything.

The swish of the automatic doors forewarned the blue doctor that he had a visitor, so Rogue wasn't all that surprised when he greeted her without looking up from his work.

"Good afternoon. Nothing broken, I hope?" This brought a smile to the girl's face.

"Not yet, but if Ah don't find anythin' to do then Ah might just break somethin'," she replied half-jokingly. At this Hank did look up.

"I see. And you came to me because…"

"'Cause you're the only person Ah can think of that might actually have somethin' worth talkin' about," she replied easily, if somewhat irritated at those people who didn't have anything worth talking about. Mr. McCoy was probably the only adult, occasionally excepting Logan, she knew that she could converse with this comfortably. "If you're busy Ah can leave," she added somewhat awkwardly.

"By all means Rogue, stay," was his amiable response. Rogue again wondered at the irony of the fact that the mutation of such a kind and intelligent man had earned him the codename "Beast." "I'm just running some blood tests, nothing that I can't spare a little attention from."

"Blood tests on who?" she inquired curiously, taking a few steps over to the former high-school teacher's workplace.

"A young mutant that Jean brought home with her," Beast explained patiently. "It seems that his stomach made the acquaintance of a rather sharp object. At the moment I'm making sure that he hasn't become infected with anything. With any luck we can patch him up and he'll be ready to go in another day or so, if that's what he desires."

Rogue contemplated this response. Was there any possibility that this was the man that Wolverine had professed his mistrust of earlier that afternoon? If so, then what did this injured mutant have to do with her? The combination of boredom and curiosity got the better of her. "Any chance Ah'll get to meet him? Anyone who manages to themselves impaled's gotta have somethin' interestin' to say. "

"I would advise against it," Hank told her. "He's unconscious at the moment, and I'm not entirely certain what his mental state will be when he wakes up." _Or what your mental state will be if you should happen to meet him_, he added silently. Luckily for him, the young woman seemed to buy this excuse.

The conversation that followed was unfortunately short, and all too soon Rogue was excusing herself from the good doctor's presence. Her retreat was full of defeat; there was officially nothing to do in this mansion. Again an image of the Danger Room flitted through her mind, and she resigned herself to the self-inflicted torture that would inevitably follow. It couldn't be worse than being bored to death, she reasoned, and at least she would be the one in control as opposed to Wolverine.

As if in one last attempt to save herself from her fate, her route to the Danger Room led her through the kitchen, which had been reopened for business. Jubilee and Bobby were having a lively conversation at the table that Rogue had previously abandoned, and Jean was trying to defend her freshly baked cookies from Scott and Jamie. After a moment of hesitation, she decided to play with the boys' minds just a little.

"Hey Jean, your offer still stand?" she inquired of the harried redhead, who smiled a little and nodded.

"Help yourself." With a smirk, the dark southerner maneuvered herself around the boys and grabbed a few of the baked goods.

"Come on Jean, that's no fair!" Scott exclaimed despairingly as the girl retreated. Her smile widened to hear her former crush acting so childishly. She had finally resigned herself to the fact that with "little miss perfect" around she didn't stand a snowball's chance in July with Scott. While her feelings for him hadn't completely disappeared, she figured that Cyclops wasn't the only attractive male in the world, and there were probably plenty of those that didn't have girlfriends. She refused to think that one particular attractive male had anything to do with this decision.

"Yeah, how come she gets some and we don't?" Jamie complained.

"Because I told her she could have some earlier," was the ready response. "Now come on, let me take these to the hospital wing. There's someone down there that deserves them a lot more than you two."

There was a flurry of whispering between the two sitting at the table. Two syllables in particular caught the attention of Rogue, who was almost out of the kitchen at that point. She shoved the two remaining cookies that were in her hand at a surprised Jamie and stormed over to the table with purpose.

"What did you say?" she demanded, planting her hands on the table so that she could glare properly at the two teens, but Jubilee in particular.

"Er…that I wanted to go with Jean to see the patient?" the Asian girl replied uncertainly, as if hoping that her response would spare her an untimely demise.

"That's not what you said," the white-striped brunette growled. Somehow she got the feeling that her good, albeit bored, day was not going to last for very much longer. "You said that you wanted to go with Jean to see _Gambit_. Please tell me that that card-throwin' Swamp Rat is _not_ in our hospital wing?" She looked around the now silent kitchen for an answer. The unresponsiveness of her audience was all the answer that she needed. After a glance around the surprised faces of her comrades, she took a few calming breaths.

"Rogue, the Professor didn't want _any_ of the students to find out," Jean told her somewhat apologetically, "But _someone_ decided to listen in on his private conversation," here she directed a murderous glare at Bobby. "So far the only people that know are the adults and us."

"Ah thought Ah told you not to go eavesdroppin' on the Professor," Rogue told the repentant Iceman before dealing with the more pressing issue of the Acolyte in the Med Bay. She pursed her lips thoughtfully once again and made for the exit of the kitchen.

"Rogue, don't," Scott called out, causing her to stop momentarily. She sighed and turned around.

"What? Ah'm only goin' upstairs to take a shower," she told him exasperatedly. When there was no response, she sighed again. "Look, if y'all think Ah'm gonna throw a hissy fit 'bout you bringin' him in an' then go and beat the livin' daylights out of 'im, Ah'm not. For all Ah care he could be standin' on the kitchen table wearin' nothin' but his boxers and doin' the Macarena. Just as long as he leaves me alone, Ah'll be fine. Now, unless you want me smellin' like Toad all night, Ah'm goin' to go take my shower."

And grumbling about people who always assumed the worst of a girl just because she was moody once a month, she marched upstairs to take that shower. Being social gave a girl nothing but trouble; now she remembered why she was so reclusive all the time. Next time she got bored she would just find a book to read.


	3. Those annoying Evil Plots

Disclaimer: I'm just wondering, what would happen if a genuine author actually posted a fanfiction for their own work? I mean, they would own it, so they wouldn't need a disclaimer, but if they didn't have one they'd get in mondo trouble with the people from the site, who probably wouldn't believe them. It's not like I own anything though, so it doesn't particularly matter.

A/N: Tada! Well, here it is, my next chapter.Betcha didn't think I'd update this soon, huh? Well, I wrote it while my beta reader was still looking at my last chapter, and then forcedher to edit it immediately after I was done (lol).At this point I'm wondering whether the plot will actually go like I said it would in the summary. I mean, I can try, but if it won't listen then there's nothing I can do about it. But you wouldn't mind, would you? ; P

Okay, Remy's character is really, really fun to write. I started this chapter in the middle of the night when I just wanted to jot down a few ideas, and I ended up writing three pages even though I was super tired. Not that this is a bad thing, mind. I just love this guy's personality. And his accent, which I'm trying to write the best I can, but I can't help but wonder whether I'm going a little overboard, especially when he talks in third person. Let me know, would ya? I don't want my favorite character (besides Rogue. But then, who can forget Kurt…or Kitty, or Pyro, or Colossus, or Hank, or Tabby or...oh dear.) to be total crap in my own fic!

Oh, and I can't quite remember whether Professor Xavier has met Gambit yet or not. For the sake of my story, let's just say not, shall we?

And since nobody chose to tell me their preference as to where responses to reviewsgo, I'm putting 'em here. If you wanna protest, let me know, and I'll be glad to change it.

Prexistence: It took me a little while to come up with that line, and I must say I'm rather proud of it. I'm usually not so good at coming up with random funny things...

ishandahalf: A bunny on crack...? That's something you don't see every day... I agree, PoC is the best movie ever, andyeah, I purposely had Rogue take the news well because I wanted to be noncomformist. It'll probably be another story when she actually confronts him though...

Fallen Angel: This chapter's three pages longer, so I hope it's more to your liking!

bored 247 and Tigerlilly 1234: well, they don't exactly meet in this chapter, but I had to get the plot in there and I knew y'all wanted a new chapter, so I decided to leave it at two scenes. Don't worry though, next chapter they'll see each other.

val, Swasti, and takimi/romy: I'm glad you liked it!

LucreziaNoin86: Yay! You even got the right episode. I must say that I'm surprised there aren't as many X-philes on here as I originally thought there would be. Or Yuyu Hakusho fans for that matter (that was the other reference). But you're the only person who's caught that, so kudos to you.

And how can I forget, Feral Phoenix: Is it really? I hadn't really noticed, but I'm glad that you think so. And why do you say "poor Jean"? Just out of consideration that Rogue might get revenge?(which I'm not planning on, but would still be rather humorous. lol)

Chapter 2:

Those annoying Evil Plots…

Remy was not built for sitting around and doing nothing. It didn't matter that he had just received a gaping wound in his gut that despite having been tended to hurt like hell. It didn't matter that he had been unconscious for the past couple of hours. It didn't matter that Magneto was out to get him. Remy LeBeau was not the kind of man that enjoyed sitting around and doing nothing one little bit.

However, since there really wasn't anything he could do about it, he had resigned himself to his fate and was currently attempting to play solitaire on the very hospital bed that imprisoned him. This was one of the many advantages to constantly having several decks of cards on one's person at all times, although the various hills and valleys created by his body and the wrinkles in the sheet as well as the fact that he could barely sit up made for a very interesting game. In fact, it was becoming quite annoying to constantly replace the cards on their appropriate stacks whenever they slipped out of place, which happened quite often. But Remy LeBeau was not the kind of man that would let such a trivial matter bother him. Remy LeBeau was not the kind of man that would let a little bit of a challenge get in the way of his mental well-being. Remy LeBeau was not the kind of man that would give up so easily. Remy LeBeau was not the kind of man that would admit defeat in a one-player game.

Remy LeBeau was, on the other hand, the kind of man that would cause the entire deck of cards to explode if another card went where it shouldn't and to heck with medical attention anyway!

Of course, Murphy and his Law seemed to be smiling on Remy LeBeau, and sent the queen of hearts floating down, down to the cold tiled floor.

"I feel betrayed, _chere,_" he informed his lucky lady somewhat mournfully, and prepared to blow his deck sky high. Besides, the color white didn't really suit the room; it would probably look much better when it was all charred and black anyway.

"Good news, Gambit," sang a cheerful voice from the door to Gambit's prison, unwittingly saving the room (and probably his patient along with it) from its impending doom.

"De name's Remy LeBeau," he corrected automatically, slightly disappointed that he wouldn't get to blow anything up quite yet. "We not fightin', you call me Remy."

"Remy then, you'll be happy to know that in another day you're free to go, given that there are no further complications to your injury," Beast continued, unfazed by the interruption. "Your wound may not have been shallow, but it wasn't deep either; you may have lost a bit of blood but the object missed your vital organs. You'll probably experience some discomfort in the area of your injury and a decrease in strength for several weeks, but other than that you should be fine."

"You right, I am happy to hear dat," he agreed, stacking up his misbehaved cards as he spoke. "But what do you pr'pose Remy do for another day? 'S a long time and dere's not much t' keep an _homme_ busy 'round here."

"I imagine that the Professor is going to wish to speak with you in regards to the reasons behind your…injury," Mr. McCoy informed him distractedly while taking down information from some of the various machines around Remy's bed. "Other than that, I'm unsure as to what to tell you. We believe that it is within your best interests to avoid notice from any of the students if at all possible, so leaving the Med Bay is probably not—"

"Hey Mr. McCoy!" exclaimed a voice from the doorway, and the men's attention was drawn to two young women standing in the doorway. One of them Remy recognized almost immediately; Jean had, after all, been the one to bring him here. The girl beside her, presumably the one that had spoken, was a new face to him, although that face was full of a dangerous mixture of mischief and energy that he was well acquainted with.

"Jean," Hank greeted before adding somewhat skeptically, "and Jubilee. May I ask as to what brings you ladies here?"

"I thought that the two of you might appreciate some cookies," Jean explained, holding out her plate as evidence. "Rogue's had a couple, but other than that I've managed to defend them for you."

"My hero," the blue, furry mutant chuckled. "That must have been quite a feat. And for what reason have you graced us with your presence, Jubilation?"

"I just wanted to meet Gambit," the younger girl told him, and as if to prove her point marched up to the bed and stuck out her hand. "I'm Jubilee."

"Seems you already know who I am," the Cajun remarked, taking her hand and kissing it. "Pleasure t' meet you." However, it seemed that the doctor had not been paying much attention to this exchange, as Jean was now giving the answer to a question Remy had just missed.

"She already knew he was here," the redhead sighed. "Bobby overheard the Professor talking about him, so of course he had to tell her. And this wouldn't be the Institute if three other people didn't overhear them talking about it. I'm not so worried about Scott so much, but I don't know how much Jamie or Rogue are going to say…"

Jubilee let out a sudden giggle before clapping her hand over her mouth to stifle it. After a few seconds she had herself under control, and she looked to Jean in apology.

"But Jean, we already heard what Rogue had to say…" she trailed off, and a brief glance at Gambit set her giggles off again. "I'm sorry. It's just (giggle) the image won't get out of my (giggle) head now."

Jean gave her a puzzled look before realization dawned on her face. It was soon obvious that she too was trying to suppress laughter. She managed to hand the plate to Hank before she gave in to the temptation. The two men shared a look of confusion.

"I do believe that we are missing something," the mutant with the cookies commented, looking from one girl to the other.

"What Remy wants to know is what exactly _chere_ said about him dat's so funny," was the level response. By now Jean, being the more responsible of the two, had managed to calm down somewhat.

"I'm sorry," the telepath told them. "It's just that…well, Rogue was a little flustered about you being here, and she needed to let off some steam."

Remy pondered this information briefly. He would openly admit that Rogue intrigued him a great deal. There weren't a great many girls that could resist the Cajun's charms for long, but she had done an admirable job of staying aloof throughout the majority of the time he had been in contact with her. Her personality had been somewhat of a refresher; he had begun to think that all girls were soft, dithering, easily swayed creatures, but after encountering her…he wouldn't be thinking that again anytime soon. So to picture her "letting off some steam" about him did a great deal for the spirits of a man that was bound to be trapped in a hospital bed for the next thirty-six hours.

"No need for apologies, _p'tite_," he told her with a chuckle. "Remy told you when we got here datde River Rat wouldn't be happy 'bout him visitin'. He just wishes dat he could'a been dere when she found out."

"Who's Remy?" Jubilee asked with a look that clearly said that she was worried about Gambit's mental health. "Are you schizophrenic or something?"

"I believe that you would be referring to Dissociative Identity Disorder," Hank cut in with a look that clearly said that Jubilee should be more polite to his patients, especially when she didn't know what she was talking about. "And no, he does not suffer from having multiple personalities."

"Who said dat I'd be suffering if I had multiple personalities?" Remy inquired with a look that clearly said that he was enjoying this conversation immensely and was enjoying provoking it even more than that.

"No Jubilee, Gambit's not schizophrenic," Jean announced with a look that clearly said "push me any further and I'll eat you," (although Mr. McCoy ignored it and muttered "D.I.D." under his breath in correction). "Remy is what he likes to be called when he's not working, just like you wouldn't call Mr. McCoy 'Beast' unless you were on a mission."

"I should hope not," aforementioned Beast demurred. "Being a former teacher and a man of science, I find its connotations highly derogatory and—"

"I think we'd better head back before someone comes looking for us," Jean interrupted, knowing full well that if he was allowed to go on in this vein there would be no shutting him up. "There's no telling how many people know about Remy already, and I don't want to take the risk of having anyone else finding out."

"Come on, the whole mansion's probably found out about him by now," Jubilee protested, finding her supposed enemy's company to be surprisingly enjoyable. "It's not like a few more minutes are gonna hurt."

"I am inclined to agree with Jean," Mr. McCoy countered. "And we still have Mr. LeBeau's health to be concerned with. He needs rest, whether he admits it or not."

"Fine," Jubilee sighed, and headed for the door dejectedly. Jean soon followed.

"What'd y'go and do dat for?" The red-eyed captive asked. "Remy don't need t'be asleep every two minutes for a li'l scratch like dis."

"If you'll recall, I said 'whether you admit it or not,'" he was informed sternly. His caretaker made for the exit now as well. "I recommend that you be asleep before I next check up on you. I don't enjoy using narcotics, but if it's necessary…"

"Remy gets de picture!" he exclaimed hurriedly. His last experience with hospital tranquilizers had caused hallucinations that had resulted in waking up next to Pyro with a great deal fewer clothes than he would have liked on either of them. He had been assured that nothing had happened, but the Aussie _had_ been drunk… "No worries. De next time you come by, I'll be so fast asleep dat an earthquake wouldn't wake me up. T'ieve's honor."

"I'll hold you to that," was the reply, the young man's last statement apparently either unnoticed or ignored. "It wouldn't be the first time a natural disaster came through here, and with Lance Alvers still in residence, I doubt it would be the last." With that the doctor was gone, leaving Remy once more to himself just as before (only darker because Mr. McCoy had turned out the lights so he could sleep).

"What de heck? Might as well do what de doctor orders," he told himself, and tried to get as comfortable as was possible with his stomach in the condition that it was. Much as he—well, dreaded wasn't quite the word, but it was the closest he could come up with—tomorrow's inevitable encounter with Xavier, he found it surprisingly easy to relax. Yes, thinking about Magneto could wait as well; he had tomorrow, and with a whole mansion full of X-men above him he was as safe from the metal-bending maniac as he could be at the moment. He was just so tired of it all…so exhausted…vaguely he had time to wonder if maybe Mr. McCoy had drugged him after all before drifting off into a deep, refreshing (natural) sleep.

(I was tempted to end the chapter right here, but I'm afraid that I might get some people frustrated if I didn't get to the storyline soon, so…carry on!)

Gambit didn't wake up until six-thirty the next morning, a rather impressive feat since he had gone to sleep at around five-thirty the previous evening. Even more astonishing was the fact that if a noise hadn't caused him to enter the world of the conscious, he would have kept sleeping for who knew how long.

The swish of the door was relatively quiet, so he thought it strange that it had woken him up now even though he was certain that Mr. McCoy had checked up on him several times during his slumber. He was more than a little annoyed that he hadn't woken up sooner; any time he got more than ten or so hours of sleep, he ended up groggy, grumpy, and with a headache that he was sure would split his head like the Liberty Bell within the next few seconds. He was more than a little disoriented too, as will happen immediately after waking up, because the bed he was in was definitely not the one that he occupied at the Acolyte base or the one in the apartment he kept for those times he needed an escape. For a moment he panicked as the thought occurred to him that Hank might not have stayed true to his word and had drugged him anyway, and he wondered who he would wake up next to this time (although later he would be wondering why he had remembered that Hank was tending him and not that he was in the X-men's Med Bay).

He opened his sleep-blurred eyes, which adjusted gradually to the thankfully dim lighting; whoever had come in the door was considerate enough not to assault him with the full power of the fluorescents overhead. As his vision cleared his memory returned to him, so when he noticed that someone besides the doctor was in the room with him he wasn't quite as worried as he would have been otherwise.

However, whoever it was was not in the room with him for very long after his eyes had opened; he had a brief impression of dark clothing and ruddy brown hair before the door closed again. Despite his throbbing temples, he managed a small smile. He couldn't be sure, but he had a sneaking suspicion about who his visitor was.

The young Cajun had been awake for a full ten minutes before the good doctor came in to check up on him.

"Ah, you're up are you?" he inquired, once again looking at the readings that seemed to intrigue him to no end. "I hadn't expected you to be awake for another two hours at least."

"Remy likes sleep as much as de next guy," he responded somewhat irritably, "but I've got to draw de line somewhere, _non_? Dere's only so much layin' 'bout and doin' nothing dat I can take."

"In that case I'll be as quick as I can manage," Mr. McCoy assured him. "The Professor has given me instructions to bring you to him as soon as you feel up to it. As I had mentioned, we didn't expect you to be about for some time, but if you're really that restless I'm certain that you're welcome to pay him a visit. All I need to do is take a quick blood sample and you're free."

"I t'ought dat I wasn't supposed t' be roamin' around," he commented, the careless manner in which he said this masking the fact that at the prospect of needles his heart had started going a mile a minute. And although Remy LeBeau was not the kind of man that would be afraid of something as trivial as a needle, that didn't stop him from disliking them with a passion.

"At this point they _should_ all be at school," he was informed in a tone that suggested that even though that was where they should be, there was really no way of being one hundred percent certain that was where they were. The blue, apelike man swabbed down Remy's arm, exposed by the hospital garb, with iodine. To take his mind off the impending stab, the patient kept his eyes straight ahead and continued with the conversation.

"Will you be givin' Remy anyt'ing to wear or will he get to visit de Professor in dis pretty dress?" He felt the needle enter his arm and he gritted his teeth until it was removed, and was relieved to hear that Hank had held in his chuckle until _after_ he was done taking the sample.

"Of course. We're still in the process of repairing you original outfit, so you'll be borrowing some of Scott's clothes," Beast told him, gesturing at the pile of clothes that had been placed in the chair next to his bed. Remy noted with relief that his trench coat remained among them. "Hopefully they'll fit; he was the closest we could come to your size on such short notice."

Gambit sat up tentatively so as to better inspect his prospective outfit. "No problems, Doc. As long as dere's pants, Remy don't mind; he's all for de _femmes_, but he's not so hot on dressin' like dem."

"I'll let you get changed then."

The southern chap pulled on the provided garments, grateful to be out of the gown he had previously been wearing. Luckily, Scott was about the same size, perhaps a few inches or so taller, so, although the jeans were a tad big, the black t-shirt fit just about right (although maybe that was because most t-shirts would fit anyone). He pulled on his traditional trench coat to complete the ensemble and, with only the bare minimum of difficulty after his injury, abandoned the room that had been his prison for the past sixteen hours.

As he was guided to the infamous Professor's office, he made sure to take note of the various turns and memorable landmarks they were passing. Having been a thief by trade for several years, he was quite used to needing to know his way around a building, and so had little difficulty remembering the route he was taken by. Not that he had any particular reason to distrust the X-men, but if things turned ugly and Magneto decided to get him back, it would be best to know his way around the place.

That led him to the current predicament. Just how much should he tell Xavier? The man was better off not knowing, better off not getting involved. The bare minimum would be the best bet, although the man being psychic definitely threw a wrench into that plan. He chewed the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. Maybe, just maybe Xavier would be able to do something about it.

_I certainly hope so, Mr. LeBeau,_ a voice echoed through his head as he was led to a stop in front of an elegant wooden door. Remy jumped a little bit, although it didn't take much to figure out that it had been the Professor that he had been brought here to meet. The prospect of someone poking around in his head was not something that he welcomed, and he wondered how much Xavier knew of his position.

_Please, come in_,the same voice invited. With a deep breath, Gambit squared his shoulders and reached for the shiny knob. Preparing himself for anything, he swung open the door to the office…and found himself confronted with a middle-aged bald man seated behind a perfectly average desk. So this was the Professor that he had heard so much about, that he had been taught by his former employer to be fearful of. Somehow he had pictured someone a tad more intimidating and a bit less scholarly. But then again, he knew from experience that looks were quite often deceiving.

"_Bonjour_, Professor," he offered by way of greeting, deciding that it would be best to be as friendly as was possible for the time being. "Remy LeBeau at your service."

"It's good to finally meet you Mr. LeBeau," Xavier responded graciously, his audible voice sounding every bit as educated as his mental one. "I hope that your stay has been comfortable?"

"_Oui,_ but dat's not what you wanted to talk to me about." Remy didn't wait for an invitation to take a seat in one of the chairs placed before the older man's desk. He leaned forward on his arms to meet Charles' eyes with his own startling gaze. "You 'n me both know what I'm here for, so let's skip de small talk and cut right to de chase. You want to know why Remy's not wit' Mags anymore, why Mags wants him back, and if Remy would like to stay wit' de X-men until t'ings calm down, am I right?"

"Those were the most prominent questions on my list, yes," Xavier agreed, appearing somewhat rattled that the young man before him knew almost exactly what he had been going to ask. He supposed that it wouldn't be terribly difficult to guess, but nevertheless Remy was one of the most straightforward people that he had encountered for a long time.

"Well den, Remy'll just hafta tell ya," the Cajun allowed, leaning back in his chair and managing to find a comfortable position to lounge in, his long legs stretched out fully, one elbow resting on the arm of the chair and his other limb draped over the back. He took a few seconds to think through how much of the story to tell this man.

"It started out wit' a job Magneto gave me a while back, maybe a month ago, to get info'mation. Didn't t'ink much 'bout it at de time, just wanted to get done and get back to de base soon's I could. Mags, he wanted me to sneak into a lab and grab a couple o' file folders for 'im, not'ing real dangerous. So I did.

"Couple o' weeks later I was told dat I was s'posed to nick a few chemicals from de same lab. 'Bout dis point I started gettin' suspicious, 'cuz usually Mags don't go messin' 'round wit' stuff like dat. I still got de stuff anyway, 'cuz it ain't normally a good idea to go sayin' no to de boss man.

"Now, dis whole time Mags was keepin' in contact wit' someone I didn't know, and I knew better dan t' go pryin'. But dis time when I got back from my job, he told me dat I was s'posed t' go meet dis guy. Said dat he would go himself, but he had other plans and de contact didn't know when de next time he could be free would be at. So I was de lucky guy dat got to go talk to him.

"I went to de spot like Mags said, and de guy showed up like he said, too. De guy started talkin' bout a buncha stuff dat sounded an awful lot to bi'logical warfare t' me. Now, Remy didn't like dis one little bit. Got nothin' wrong wit' a good fair out fight, but messin' wit' viruses just don't sit right wit' me. So when Remy got back, he decided to do a little investigating of his own. Broke into Magneto's office, found a lot of stuff about a new disease someone's engineering. Dat's when Remy decided dat it was time t' abandon ship. Would've left town sooner, but he had a few t'ings to wrap up here. 'Course, didn't take long for Mags t' figure out dat I'd been messin' wit' his stuff, and I still hadn't given him de man's info yet, so he came after me. And dat's de story."

"Why would Magnus come after you for something as trivial as information? Couldn't he simply find some other way to get it?" Charles inquired. Remy's mind raced to come up with an explanation that fit with the story that he had just told.

"Dat's de t'ing. It's some pretty important stuff, and de guy I talked to was de only one dat knew it. Note de past tense; he died in dat 'splosion dat was in de news a few days ago." He observed the look that was being directed at him. "No, Remy didn't have not'ing t' do wit' it. It happened all on its lonesome."

"I see." The Professor steepled his hands and seemed to be pondering all of the information that he had just been handed. "And what do you think the chances are of Magnus releasing this new virus despite the fact that he is missing the information you were to give him?"

"Dere's no tellin' wit' him. He might let it out anyway just outta spite, but I t'ink dat might be too dangerous even for him. He might be able to find some other way t' do de same t'ing, which is what Remy's afraid of."

"What do you mean by 'the same thing'?" the psychic asked, his brows furrowing in consternation.

"De whole point of de virus was dat only humans can get it. De man's obsessed wit' world domination, so why not make de world dat much easier to dominate?"

"I'm not sure that it's world domination so much as the domination of humans," Xavier countered, "but this virus…while it's certainly in his league, I can't see Magnus attempting something so drastic."

"Well, believe it _homme_," was Gambit's ready response. He held up his right hand. "'Cuz Remy's not lyin.'" He had to suppress the addition of the thought _about dat, anyways_; he had no doubt that if he thought it too loudly then the Professor would hear it.

"I believe you," the bald man agreed somewhat distractedly. "I just wish that it weren't true…"

"So do I," Remy seconded emphatically. Life would have been so much easier if this whole plot had never popped into Magneto's twisted mind. There was a moment of silence in which both mutants contemplated their own private thoughts. Suddenly the Professor spoke up.

"You haven't yet said whether you will be remaining with the X-men."

"Temptin' as dat is, Remy would have to say dat he won't," the thief informed him. "Dis is de first place dat Mags is gonna come lookin' for him. I'm not goin' ta put you and your kids at risk like dat. You're good people; you don't need to get involved in dis."

"We are perfectly capable of handling whatever Magneto may throw at us, Remy. If that is truly your only concern, you need not worry about it."

"Nah, Remy's got plans already. 'Sides, he's never been much of a team player in de first place, and he gets a sneakin' suspicion dat de kids're gonna make him feel too welcome, _hein_?"

"I really don't think that—"

"Look, Remy 'preciates your offer, really he does," he interrupted, standing up as he did so. "And he's glad dat you took care o' him for dis long, but tomorrow he's gonna be leavin'. You have dat fancy machine you can use if y' need me, but I have t'ings dat need doin' and dey won't get done if I'm hidin' out in your mansion."

"Alright," Xavier finally relented. "But know that if you ever change your mind, you are always welcome here."

"T'anks Professor. Remy'll remember dat." He took a few steps towards the door. "Is dere anyt'ing else y' need t' know?"

"No, I believe that will suffice for now."

"Den if y' don't mind, Remy's gonna go take a look around 'fore all de students get back," he told the wheelchair-bound man behind the desk. "A good book might not be such a bad t'ing 'bout now."

"Third hallway to the left," the Professor supplied with a small smile as the young man exited his office.

Remy let out a sigh of relief as he closed the door. Well, that was over with, and it was now about eight in the morning. He figured that he had until about three to do his poking around and get back to the hospital wing. But first things first, he reminded himself as his stomach grumbled loudly, was to find the kitchen. Then he would see where his feet took him.


	4. Encounters of the Rodent kind

A/N: And here's what you've all been waiting for: Remy and Rogue interact for the first time in this fic! This chapter's mostly "fluff" (note the quotation marks, 'cuz it ain't exactly what normally comes to mind when you think of fluff) because I've made y'all wait so long for some Romy action and there won't be much opportunity for "fluff" in the next few chapters, which is really too bad because it's fun to write and y'all are probably going to eat me for not having enough of it. But just you wait until we get into the real plot; you're gonna love it. I hope.

I'm terribly sorry if I messed up some of the New Mutants' personalities. I did my best, but I'm not too familiar with them. Again, blame it on the network I'm stuck watching Evo on. Any suggestions in that department are more than welcome. Oh, and I'm sorry if I'm going a little overboard with Kitty's "likes"; it's just that I'm pretty familiar with Chicago-area speech and I put them in wherever it felt natural to me. I'm not of the school that believes her to be a total ditz, so if I make her sound like one it's not intentional.

And now for review responses!

Prexistence: Well, you've got the second idea half right. You'll see what I mean later. Sorry if it's not what you're hoping for!

ishandahalf: yeah, doesn't it annoy you when everyone calls DID schizophrenia? And I'm sad to say that yes, Remy is leaving, but that's just the way it has to be. No worries though; it won't be before plenty of fluff, and if this plotbunny cooperates he'll come back.

killing belladonna is a VERY good thing: (lol, I love the name, and I happen to agree wholeheartedly) Don't worry, (at the risk of spoiling the plot) although it might seem like it at the moment, Magneto is not the only villain in this story.

lizbeth, keebler-elmo, and Rogue gaL: Thank you all, you're too kind. And see, I'm updating—hope you like it.

bored247 and Tigerlilly1234: No need to worry! Your fluffy demands have (hopefully) been met.

RubyTuesday13: thank you so much for reading my oneshot. I'm normally not into angst or spiritual, but that story meant a lot to me, and it makes me happy that it had the desired effect. As to this fic—I'm glad you notice that stuff, I work ahrd on the details. I didn't think my Dr. McCoy was that good, but I'll trust your opinion (and you'd do him just fine. Your Tabby is like ten times better than mine). And yes, I had fun with the "push me any farther and I'll eat you" thing, I had fun with that. I try to put something a little quirky like that in each chapter.

Jillie Rose: Really? Pride and Prejudice is one of my favorites too (I'm currently rereading it for the third time so…yeah. Not sure whether he'll read it…but we'll hear from Kitty soon. You got two out of three references right (the red-haired dude was really Jin from Yuyu Hakusho), and I love all of them. How'd you know it was the X-files if you didn't recognise the episode (it was Small Potatoes, btw, if that makes any difference at all)? Anyway, thanks so incredibly much for your support. I read one of your fics, I think it was "My Least Favorite Holiday" or something to that effect (I'm too lazy to look it up at the moment). I tried to review it, but it wouldn't let me, so I'll take this opportunity to say that it's really good!

authorless: lol, blame it on my beta reader, not me! I write faster than she can edit. I have my next chapter edited already though, so it shouldn't be that long 'til the next installment at least. Hope you approve of it!

sdfssddff: Glad you think so (although I'm not exactly sure how soon I'll be getting to the ending).

Chapter 3:

Encounters of the Rodent kind

It had been a long day for Rogue; nothing particularly bad had happened, but it was long nonetheless. Every second that the clock ticked off seemed like a century to her. She was unusually anxious to be free of the prison that adults gave the title school (not that she normally wanted to be there, but now less than ever). There was a nagging thought in the back of her mind that there was something infinitely important that she needed to be doing back at the mansion; the problem was that she had absolutely no idea what it was.

It didn't help either that ever since French class she couldn't get the thought of one particular French-fluent man out of her mind. What business did Jean have bringing him within five miles of her? Certainly she had forced herself to act calm when she had discovered this news, but that didn't mean that she was not upset. Couldn't that dratted redhead have more consideration for her feelings? After everything that that Swamp Rat had put her though, after he had opposed the X-men so many times… What business did Jean have taking him in when she was still so incredibly confused by him?

She had stopped by the hospital wing that morning, although she hadn't known to what purpose. She had told herself that she was planning to give him a piece of her mind, and she had almost even believed her excuse. She had been slightly disappointed when he had been asleep; strange as it sounded, being able to yell at someone was comforting.

"Stupid Swamp Rat," she had muttered, taking in the unconscious Cajun. He seemed so different without that cocky smile, all expression wiped from his face by the tides of sleep. He seemed almost peaceful, almost innocent, almost trustworthy.

Of course, then he had begun to stir and break the spell that he was unknowingly casting simply by not being awake. She had only stayed a few seconds longer before high-tailing it out of there, although she couldn't have said why she had been so intimidated by confronting him when minutes ago she had been longing for an argument.

To tell the truth she didn't know what to think of him, and probably hadn't since the first time she had met him. She knew that he wasn't to be trusted; the fact that he had kidnapped and used her was proof enough of that. And the fact that he worked for Magneto definitely made her hesitant to consider thinking him a good person. On a more personal level, his flirting and overconfident attitude positively drove her up a wall!

Then again…when he had taken her down to New Orleans, she had had the time of her life. And if he was so buddy-buddy with Magneto, then why had he not gone to the metal-wielding maniac when he had become injured? Upon consideration, he did have a more serious side to him, and wasn't it just the tiniest bit pleasant to be in the company of someone who wouldn't balk in the company of a cantankerous goth, someone who wouldn't hesitate to joke around no matter what his company or situation?

So the good cancelled out the bad and vice versa, and she was left pretty unsure as to what to think of him. Of course, for the most part she let his faults be her main consideration, because there was no denying the fact that he worked for the enemy. He had also betrayed her trust down in New Orleans, and she had been betrayed too many times in her life for that not to upset her. But there was still something there, something that made her curious about him. Not that she would ever admit it to anyone, and only rarely to herself.

Rogue glanced down at her notes briefly, to make sure that she had caught everything that her teacher had been saying, and did a double take. Before anyone could see what he mutinous hand had dared to draw, she began fiercely erasing. She choked slightly on the smell of hot rubber that was now radiating from the spot that had until previously borne an idly sketched heart and blew the ample dust from her page. What on earth was wrong with her? This was something that she might expect from Kitty or Amara or Jubilee, but certainly not from herself… She made sure that she would remember that not only her feet had minds of their own, but her hands appeared to as well. _She_ certainly hadn't been the one to tell them to draw a heart of all things while she was thinking about Gambit! She shuddered slightly at the thought of any romantic relationship with the Swamp Rat, and jumped as the bell keened shrilly.

With relief she stuffed her notebook in her bookbag and stood up, grunting a little as she hefted the large bag. Patiently she waited for the rest of the students to filter out of the door for the most part before going through the portal to freedom as well. Only one more day. One more day until the weekend came around, two blessed days without school. She was just happy that Jean hadn't brought Gambit home on a Friday night and ruined her relaxation time; there was no way that she could take it easy with that Swamp Rat lurking around the Institute.

She stopped at her locker briefly and put away a few of her books, taking out another couple that she would need later that night. Then she was home free; it took all the self-control she could muster not to simply bolt out of the building. She ignored the rude comments of several students she passed on her way to the student parking lot (who cared what they thought anyway?) and climbed in the back of Scott's red convertible, where Kitty and the owner himself were already waiting.

"Hey Rogue," Scott greeted, raising his hand in acknowledgement.

"Have a nice day?" Kitty inquired with a smile. Rogue rolled her eyes slightly at the constant cheeriness of her room mate.

"How often have Ah evah had a nice day?" she asked rhetorically.

"Yeesh, like, no need to bite my head off. I was just asking," the upbeat brunette shot back with a roll of her own eyes. The car was filled with a silence as there was no response to this. Rogue tapped her foot impatiently as she mentally willed the other carpoolers to get their butts in gear. It seemed that her message was working, because only moments after she had put out this silent command the only one that would have heard it came floating out the door.

"You're broadcasting, Rogue," she commented before gracefully lowering herself into the passenger's seat. Things had become so much easier once Ray had gotten his driver's license; now he could drive the newer recruits home and the veterans could all be fit into one car, whereas before Jean had needed to constantly drive her SUV to and from school independently of Scott.

"Ah meant to," was the snapped response. The girl with two-toned hair shot glares at the back of the red head in front of her as the older girl engaged in a conversation with the current driver. Jean was always one of the main targets if she had anger that needed to be channeled; that girl was way too perfect for her own good, and this time she was even one of the main causes of Rogue's irritation.

Kitty opened her mouth as if to say something, but was interrupted as a cloud of sulfur in addition to a noise that had been given the onomatopoeia of "bampf" was brought into existence in the seat between the two girls.

"Sorry guys," the newly appeared teenager apologized with a sheepish grin. "Amanda insisted on telling off every single person zhat so much as _looked_ at me zhe wrong vay."

"You're not supposed to be using your powers on school grounds," Scott told him reproachfully as he put the car in gear and started driving out of the parking lot.

"I had to escape somehow!" Kurt protested. When he realized that this was not sufficient for their "fearless leader," he sighed and continued, "Besides, I vent into zhe bathroom first. Nobody saw me."

"I hope you're right," Scott informed him with a scowl that only Jean could properly see from her seat next to him. "You really need to be more careful."

"I know…" Rogue tuned the conversation out and concentrated on the feeling of the wind blowing across her face courtesy of the roofless state of the vehicle. She was finally heading home; that's what was important. As long as everyone could manage to leave her alone until she managed to find a good book to read and abscond with it to her room, then she might actually be in a decent mood by the time that dinner came around and she was forced to interact with people.

This hope was most of what sustained her that entire trip back to the mansion. Surviving Kitty's constant rambling, Kurt's lame attempts at humor, and the infuriating way that Scott and Jean were constantly flirting was hard enough on most days, but when she was as anxious as she was today it was enough to make a girl go crazy (or, in some people's opinions of her, crazier).

The instant that the convertible was put into park, she practically flew out of it. Not waiting for an instant, she made a beeline for the library. That library was her place of refuge; hardly anyone ever went there, and when they did they knew better than to bother her. Not only that, but the selection of books at the Professor's disposal was mind blowing: every genre from classic to scientific to fantasy was available, and surprisingly few of the books had been lost when the building had been wrecked all those ages ago. It was the closest thing to paradise that Rogue had ever found, and that was saying a lot in consideration of how closely her life often resembled hell.

The buzz of excited whispering filled her hearing as she neared her destination. Curious as to what would bring such a large crowd so near her refuge, she continued in the direction from which it was coming. A sense of dread began to grow as the route she was taking to get closer to the talking was no different from that she had been taking to the library. And yes, as she turned into the correct hallway, there was a mob of new recruits clustered at the library's open doorway.

For a moment she wondered how they managed to beat the older students home so consistently, considering that they were much less organized and greater in number than the more experienced members of the team. That thought only lasted for a second before she turned to more pressing matters. What on earth caused them to be so interested in the library when the last thing most of them were worried about was studying?

The sense of dread that had begun developing a few minutes ago began growing in fits and spurts. Whatever it was was bad news, that was for certain; she had learned to trust her instincts long ago.

Now she could make out what the younger students were saying.

"…talking to him?" Sam was asking.

"Sure looks like it," was Roberto's scornful response. "Just look at him. Who does he think he is, just making himself at home like it's no big deal?"

By this point, Rogue's suspicions had been confirmed, and she was stomping towards the cavernous room with a purpose. "That's exactly what I want to know," she growled loudly from behind the boys, who looked up at her in surprise. Of course, they wouldn't know that this was the man who had kidnapped her only a couple of months ago, having had very little contact with him. But whether or not Rogue's anger made sense, these boys knew well enough to stand back when she was angry.

As for Jubilee and Amara…they were so busy trying to flirt with Remy that they were unaware of her angry approach, and he was just as oblivious until she was little less than two yards away from them.

"What the hell do you think you're tryin' ta pull, Swamp Rat?" she demanded angrily, much to the surprise of the uninformed observers. "It's bad enough that you're here in the first place, but now y're invadin' the one place that Ah can evah find any peace an' quiet!"

"Remy didn' t'ink you'd be back so soon, _chere,_" he commented nonchalantly, ignoring the tone in her voice that would be intimidating to anyone else. "But he'd been hopin' dat he'd get t'see y'again."

"And Ah was hopin' that Ah _wouldn't_ have to see you again!" The formerly southern girl exclaimed angrily. Jubilee and Amara noted the glint of murder in her eye and wisely decided to retreat to the safer vantage point from which the others were watching. By this time Kurt and Kitty had joined the crowd of younger students and were looking on in astonishment.

"Is this guy totally insane?" Ray hissed to his peers. "What kind of idiot purposely tries to get on Rogue's bad side?"

"Zhere's been some debate about zhat," Kurt replied, somewhat awestruck himself at the bravery—or stupidity, as was most likely the case—it required to go up against his sister.

"This guy's, like, totally stalking her," Kitty added. "But like, how long has he been here? Wouldn't someone have told us about it or something?" There was no more time for discussion, however, since Remy was already making his comeback.

"Y' sure could 'a fooled me when y' stopped by dis mornin'," Remy countered with a raised eyebrow. Rogue opened and closed her mouth in indignance a few times, trying to think of an adequate response to this. She hadn't thought that he had been awake, but there was no way that he could make that lucky a guess…she thought.

"Ah have no idea what in the world you're talkin' about Swamp Rat," she informed him confidently, crossing her arms. "Why would Ah want to start my day by seein' _you_?"

"'Cuz y' can't stay away from Remy's charm and good looks for one," he told her with that familiar arrogant grin. "For anot'er, y're madly in love wit' him."

"Holy…" Jubilee trailed off, eyes wide. "Did he just say what I think he said?"

"That man has a death wish," Bobby agreed with a very similar expression. "There's no other explanation for it."

"What twisted version of reality have you been living in?" Rogue demanded. "'Cause as far as Ah know, Ah don't fall for cocky Swamp Rats that try and blow me up and then go and kidnap me instead of askin' for help like any normal person."

"Ah, but would you've helped if Remy'd just asked 'like any normal person'?" he inquired, his grin spreading ever so slightly.

"Y'know, Swamp Rat, Ah told ya then and Ah'll tell ya now, you did the wrong thing for the right reasons. That doesn't mean that Ah forgive ya for it," was Rogue's response, the civility of it surprising those people she knew were watching. Alright, so Remy bugged the heck out of her, but she figured that he was hardly worth the effort of arguing with constantly. Besides that, he actually had a point and she would rather invite Pyro to toast marshmallows on an open flame than say as much.

"Which means dat you know I'm right and don't want t' admit it," Remy interpreted understandingly, causing the scowl of the girl across from him to deepen. "Y' can't fool Remy 'bout dese t'ings."

"Do the world a favor and go boil your head, Swamp Rat," she shot back exasperatedly.

"If it'll make y' happy, _chere_, your wish is m' command," he acquiesced with an elegant bow, and made for the door of the library.

"In that case, come back heah. Ah think there're a few things Ah'd like t' wish for before yer head turns inta an oversized Eastah egg," she commanded regally, just the tiniest hint of a smile playing at her lips. Her trenchcoat-wearing victim's sanguine eyes twinkled and his grin turned slightly more mischievous.

"If dat's what y' wanted, y' should've said so in de first place," Gambit informed her before jerking his head at their stunned audience. "But y' sure y' okay wit' dem watchin'?"

It took Rogue a moment to figure out what he meant, but once she had…

"You are truly hopeless, Remy LeBeau," she told him with a glare. "A hopeless, incorrigible Swamp Rat that doesn't know when ta quit."

"Remy tries, _chere_, Remy tries," the tall young man sighed mock-earnestly.

"And I would appreciate it if Remy 'tried' to return to the Med Bay in the near future," a voice projected from the door. All students turned to see a second blue, furry mutant standing in the doorway.

"Remy comin'," he sighed, this time somewhat sincerely. "My apologies _chere_, but maybe anot'er time, _non_?" With that, he waded through the mass of students that had been watching the exchange, narrowly missing a bump into Jamie that would have undoubtedly resulted in more students present than there already were. Rogue watched him retreat for a few moments, then with a shake of her head retreated herself into the forest of books at her disposal. She knew that she would probably never hear the end of it from Kitty later that night, but at least she could escape for the moment.

Dinner proved to be a very troublesome affair. Rogue being Rogue, of course no one would dare to confront her unless they were completely certain that they wouldn't meet an untimely demise. Even so, throughout the entire meal she felt _watched_. More than once she had glanced up from her food to find herself at the receiving end of a curious look, mostly from the newer students, but once or twice she caught Jean and Scott looking at her too. And despite the fact that they were more discreet about it, she could tell that she was a focus of the teachers' attention as well. About the only people that did not stare at her at any point were Ororo, Kurt and Kitty. She suspected that Logan would have been on that list as well had he not been conspicuously absent.

Finally her strained nerves reached their breaking point, and she stood up abruptly.

"If y'all are done starin' at me now, Ah'm goin' to my room," she informed them with her customary glare and scowl, and proceeded to carry through on this promise.

Walking through the halls while everyone was at dinner was rather eerie. It was as if the entire mansion was deserted; it wouldn't take that much imagination to pretend that she was the only one in the entire building. The thought that no one would be able to hear her scream if the worst happened came unbidden into her head; she knew that she could more than defend herself, and that that was always what the main character in horror movies always thought before being attacked. She suppressed a laugh at how easy it was to freak herself out; pathetic, really.

She felt a little bit better when she finally reached the familiarity of her own shared dormitory. She had managed to dig up an interesting-looking vampire novel in the library, strange as it seemed for the Professor to have vampire novels. She hoped that it had a lot of blood and gore; that was exactly the outlet that her nerves needed at the moment. She situated her pillows that she could lounge in an upright position on her bed and opened the book, immediately being sucked into the pages.

She had managed to read the first two chapters or so before the previously predicted assault on her ears commenced.

"So like, what's up Rogue?" The southern girl jumped slightly; she hadn't heard anyone come in, but then again she wouldn't if the person who had just spoken could walk through walls (or doors, as the case may be). She looked upwards in response to Kitty's question and put on an exaggerated expression of deep thought.

"Let's see, there's the ceilin' for starters, and then there're clouds and birds and prob'ly a few airplanes and—"

"That's not what I meant," Kitty told her, interrupting the sarcastic rant of her friend. "I meant, what's going on with you? You've been acting, like, totally weird all day, and then there was that thing with Gambit earlier…"

"If you saw that, you should know why Ah'm so darned upset," Rogue replied bluntly. She knew that her roommate had every reason to be concerned about her feelings, and it felt good to know that she was cared about, but it seemed that whenever she was going through a major crisis she couldn't bring herself to talk. Her life and feelings were personal, and she had a hard time revealing her flaws and weaknesses for the world to analyze. Kitty was probably her best friend, and she had a right to know, but that didn't make things any easier.

"What, 'cause Mr. McCoy interrupted you guys right, like, in the middle?" The Chicagoan attempted to joke, but on seeing the glare directed her way grew serious again. "So, how long have you known he was, like, here?"

"Since last night," Rogue confessed, marking the page in her book and putting it down on the mattress beside her. "Bobby overheard the Professah talkin' about it, and Ah overheard Bobby talkin' about it. Far as Ah know he got here yesterday and is leavin' tomorrow, thank heaven."

"But I thought you like, liked him or something," Kitty objected.

"Have you'n that Swamp Rat been smokin' the same thing? 'Cuz that's the only reason Ah can think of that you of all people would even consider thinkin' that Ah had a crush on him," she protested indignantly. Honestly, why did everyone assume that she would be attracted to him just because she had decided to help him out _one single time_?

"Hey, you said it, not me," was the shorter girl's answer to that. "I only meant that you don't totally hate him or anything. Do you?"

"Yes—no—Ah don't know Kit," Rogue sighed, leaning back more fully into her pillows. "Ah guess he's not that bad, but he gets on my nerves like ya wouldn't believe, and ya can't forget, he works for Buckethead."

"So? Lance is in the Brotherhood and him and me are still friends," Kitty pointed out. "What's the difference?"

"The difference is, even though the Brotherhood are connivin' little pests, they're not out ta enslave all humanity! Most o' them aren't even _smart _enough ta try somethin' like that!"

"That's, like, not the point," Kitty informed her, dismissing the issue with a wave of her hand. "The point is that just because he works for Magneto doesn't mean he's, like, a terrible person. Besides, I don't think the Professor would even let him in the mansion if he didn't trust him."

"Logan doesn't trust him."

"Logan doesn't trust, like, anyone. And Gambit's like, the only person I've ever seen that's been able to make you smile in the middle of an argument with him. That's gotta say something for his personality."

"Ah wasn't smilin'," Rogue grumbled, her scowl now firmly in place.

"Sure you weren't," her friend agreed amiably, "and you don't still have that playing card he gave you either."

Rogue sat up abruptly, turning the full power of her fierce glower on her roommate. "How did you know about that? Have you been lookin' through my stuff?"

"Like, relax Rogue. I was just putting that necklace I borrowed a couple days ago back in your jewelry box, and I saw it. No big deal."

"That's the last time Ah'm lettin' _you_ borrow my jewelry," she muttered.

"Whatever. All I'm saying is not to totally write him off right away," Kitty stated gently so as not to rile up her sensitive roommate. "I know I shouldn't be one to talk, but he doesn't seem all that bad."

"Yeah, well, you weren't kidnapped by him," Rogue pointed out before standing up. "Listen, invigoratin' as this chat has been, Ah think Ah just need some time to think. So if you'll excuse me?" Before her companion could protest, she was out the door and into the hallway…and completely at a loss as to what to do now.

Remembering her vow not to do anything social the next time she had nothing to occupy her, Rogue moved in the direction that there was the least chance of encountering people: the Danger Room. She didn't normally enjoy the suffering that was associated with that particular room, but at the moment she was confused and being confused got her angry, so having something to channel that anger into sounded like a good idea at the moment.

It was equally creepy to walk through the hallways of the institute while everyone was somewhere else as to pass through the area that surrounded the Danger Room late in the evening, which was not something that Rogue had counted on. However, the goosebumps that ran over her body were only fuel for her frustration, and as she neared her destination she picked up speed. She knew that it was only her nerves speaking, but she got the feeling that someone else was nearby.

With another shiver she opened the Danger Room doors, relieved to finally be there…

But not relieved when her emerald eyes were met with a surprised pair of the opposite coloration.

"Not you again," she groaned, bringing her hand to her forehead. "Ah don't need this right now."

"If Remy didn't know better he'd say dat you're not happy to see him," the owner of the eyes commented, recovering from his startle fairly quickly.

"Did Remy evah consider that he was right?" she shot back tiredly, not happy to have escaped one stressful discussion just to enter another one.

"_Oui,_ but he don' believe it for a second," Remy told her with a smile. "You gonna just stand dere or you gonna show Remy how dis t'ing works?"

"Ah thought you were s'posed to be in the Med Bay," Rogue argued with crossed arms, although any doubts that her feet were self-controlled were swept away as they carried her towards where the supposed Acolyte was standing near the center of the room.

"What de doctor don' know won't hurt 'im, _non_?" he suggested, and despite herself Rogue smiled. Forget her feet having minds of their own; she was beginning to get the feeling that the only thing her mind controlled was…well…her mind! "Remy couldn't resist seein' if de infamous Danger Room is really as bad as dey say it is, but from what he can tell it's just a big empty box."

"Swamp Rat, you ain't seen nothin' yet," Rogue replied, the smile still gracing her lips. "You're gonna be sorry you ever asked."

Rogue was exhausted when she finally climbed into bed. She had barely had enough strength to stay standing for the duration of the quick shower she had taken to get rid of all the sweat she had worked up over the past… how many hours was it again? Kitty was already asleep, so it had probably been at least a couple.

But it was the good kind of exhausted, the kind you felt when you just got done with a hard workout…which was basically what she had done. She had taken Gambit through a number of different scenarios that she was acquainted with. It had actually been rather enjoyable to go through the familiar routines with him, making certain that she stayed his equal at all times. If nothing else, he was in good shape; should she have expected less from one of Magneto's cronies? But nevertheless, his unusual sense of humor had made the practice much less tedious than it was when she was with any of the other students. The last bit of their time in the Danger Room had been the most entertaining: they had done away with the computerized settings and settled for good old fashioned one-on-one bouts. She had lost some of them, certainly, but she had won a few matches, too, and for the most part had held her own. Loath as she was to admit it, Remy really was a good sparring partner, even whilst his injury was a hindrance to both parties.

And the amazing thing was that she had actually had fun. She had had fun in the Danger Room of all places, with Remy LeBeau of all people. She had been put in the situation that she would have avoided at all costs had she been given the option, and she had had fun.

The smile that had been close at hand for the past few hours returned as she drifted off to sleep. She didn't even bother to wonder how in the world Remy had even gotten into the Danger Room in the first place.


	5. Tired and Talkative

Disclaimer: Do people even bother to read these things? I mean, sure, I can understand that administrators might look in on the first chapter to make sure that everyone's honest, but would they seriously go this far into a story just to make sure that it has a disclaimer? At this point, I think that the only purpose to having a disclaimer in every chapter is to show off how incredibly witty the author is and offer a few laughs for the readers. So laugh away, dear friends, because it's not mine!

A/N: I've finally figured it out! In my fic, everyone is a year younger than they were at the end of the series. Meaning, Jean and Scott are looking forward to their graduation, the majority of the New Mutants are freshmen, etc. Actually, if I ever finish this, I have a sort-of-sequel planned that hinges on that fact… Additionally, the way I interpreted the last episode was that Magneto was alive, and I'm going to throw Mystique in too because she was being controlled by Apocalypse and besides that, she's just too cool to be dead.

Does the Professor actually eat with everyone? Somehow I can't picture it…to me he's like this mysterious benefactor that only appears in times of great trouble to offer a few words of advice and then retreat to his study. I know, he's a normal (psychic) person just like you and me, but in my mind he's just kind of…distant. So sorry if he's supposed to be at breakfast and he's not; let's just say that he's off doing Professor-y things.

Important! Note about "likes": I said this last chapter, and I'll say it again. Kitty is not a ditz! The "like" interjection is just a normal part of Chicago-area teenage speech, with which I am well acquainted. It is a filler word, similarly used to "um" and "er," although the meaning and use are not exactly the same as those of these two examples. I put "like" in her speech wherever it feels natural. If there is a comma before/after it, there is a pause; if there is not, then do not halt mid-ramble—it causes a most unfortunate loss of momentum for which I will not be held accountable. Thank you.

Wow…long author's note. Sorry!

Prexistence: I'm glad that you like surprises, because in my stories I try to be as original as I can and throw in a bunch of plot twists. It makes me happy to know that I'm reaching my goal!

bored 247 and ishandahalf: Hooray! You actually liked my fluff! It was my first attempt at fluff ever, too, so I'm flattered that you think it was good. You'll get some more in this chapter, so enjoy!

Tigerlilly 1234: Actually, I am planning on a little competition for him. How'd you know? I don't know how much it's going to fit into this particular story, but it's most definitely going to be in the half-sequel I have planned out!

lizbeth and Swasti: lol, you guys cheer me up and make me smile.

Chapter 4:

Tired and Talkative

Kitty woke up the next morning tired and grumpy…well, as grumpy as she could ever get. She had tried staying up last night waiting for Rogue to come back from wherever she had gone off to, but despite herself she had fallen asleep on the job. So not only had she not accomplished her mission, she was now sore, groggy, headachy, and all around unhappy to be awake.

A glance at the bed next to hers was somewhat reassuring, however; there was her roommate, slumbering away peacefully. She allowed herself the tiniest of unsympathetic smirks; if she was tired, then Rogue, who had gotten in who knew how many hours later than she had, would be a zombie. Although that wasn't necessarily a good thing; an irritable Rogue made for a day in which one was constantly in peril of a long, painful death. Or at least a very colorful telling off.

Kitty debated for a moment whether or not she should wake up her slumbering friend. On the one hand, it would be fun to get revenge on her for making her worry so much the previous night, and besides that she didn't want to be late for school. On the other hand, it would be slightly cruel to wake up someone who had gotten less sleep than her six hours, and waking up Rogue was only less dangerous than waking up Wolverine because she didn't have adamantium claws at her disposal.

In the end she decided against the idea; the alarm would be ringing in another fifteen minutes anyway, and she did not want to incur the other girl's wrath. Consistent with this idea, she dressed as quickly as possible in her favorite pink sweater and capris, took only a minute to fix her sleep-mussed hair, and was out of the room four minutes before the clock rang out certain doom for any foolish enough to get in the southerner's way.

Once out of the danger zone, the Chicagoan made for the kitchen. With any luck, she could actually grab some decent breakfast before the place was overrun with students trying to eat and make it to school on time. She really didn't like the idea of dealing with that mob this early in the morning with this little sleep and a killer headache to boot.

She sighed with relief as she reached her destination and found it thankfully empty but for a few of the staff and Jean. Wordlessly she grabbed a bowl and poured herself some cereal, savoring the ability to be able to eat cereal and not rush. It was not often that she would finish getting dressed soon enough to relax; it wasn't like she spent hours in front of the mirror or anything, but she felt that her appearance was something worth taking a little time on nonetheless. She knew that people called her a "valley girl," and she didn't particularly worry about whether she was one or not; what really annoyed her was when people assumed that just because she cared about what she looked like she was an airhead.

"Kitty?" Jean interrupted her thoughts, causing her took look up in surprise. "How is she?"

"Who, like, Rogue?" she asked somewhat perplexedly. Why on earth would Jean be so worried about Rogue, even with Gambit in the house? Not that Jean _didn't_ worry about Rogue whenever she was having emotional tribulations, but in this particular instance…if Kitty didn't know better, she would say that the redhead looked a little guilty. However, even if she didn't know the reasons for the question, at Jean's nod of affirmation she went on to answer the question; she was sure that the older girl's motives were pure.

"She's okay as she ever is. She was just, like, really irritated about him being here, but since he's going today anyway she should be less grumpy than like, normal. At least, if she's like, a total bear today it'll because she stayed up like way too late last night and not because of Gambit." At this Wolverine looked down over the top of his newspaper.

"So you 'n' Stripes found out about him, huh?" he growled, although now that she had become accustomed to it as his everyday way of speech, the growl was less intimidating.

"Like, the entire student population knows about him by now," Kitty informed him as if it were yesterday's news (which, in point of fact, it was).

"Really Logan, I'd think that you would be aware by now of the fact that anything you want to be kept secret will automatically become the most popular topic for discussion of the day," Ororo commented with a slight smile. Despite her throbbing head, Kitty smiled too; she enjoyed Ororo's particular brand of humor, and it was quite amusing to see Logan so naïve as to think he could keep a secret when sharing the same house as twelve odd teenagers.

"Yeah, well, I'd better not find out whose fault it was, 'cuz as soon as I do they're in a world of hurt," Wolverine rumbled in response to her teasing. This only caused Kitty's grin to widen; he definitely did not respond well to being in the wrong. He pretended to be such a "bad boy," but she could tell that he wasn't as tough as he wanted everyone to think. Of course, that still didn't mean that she would dare to get on his bad side—she didn't think anyone but Sabertooth was that dumb.

"But you're sure that she's okay?" Jean asked again in earnest. Truthfully, seeing poised Jean so distraught would have been humorous had she been worried about the condition of…say…Scott instead of Rogue.

"Like I said, she's totally all right," Kitty reassured her, moving to put her bowl and spoon in the sink. "Like, why are you so upset about it anyway?"

"I can't help but feel guilty," Jean confessed. The brunette was still over by the sink, so she couldn't tell what her facial expression was, but she could guess that it was prettily remorseful. She admired the way that Jean could make almost any emotion look pretty; it was an art that must have taken years to perfect if it didn't come naturally. "I'm the one that brought him back here in the first place, so if anything happens because of him…"

"Lighten up, Red," Logan instructed. "There wasn't anything else ya could've done."

"If you hadn't come across him when you did he probably would have died of blood loss," Mr. McCoy added, speaking up for the first time that morning, "and if not that, infection. Of course, that doesn't take into account the fact that he was still being attacked by two of the other Acolytes…"

"Like, why were they after him?" Kitty inquired, confused. Some of the puzzle pieces were starting to fit into place, like why Gambit was here at the Institute instead of recuperating with Magneto, but it seemed that a few of the pieces had fallen under the table. "Did he do something wrong or has Buckethead finally totally lost it?"

"We're not quite sure," Ororo replied.

"Chuck pro'ly knows, but if he does he's keeping it to himself," Logan added from behind his customary newspaper. The room was silent for a few moments as they digested this information, and Kitty decided it was time for her to leave; she had finished eating, and she hated it when she didn't know what to say (an event that happened quite infrequently, but that did nothing to change her dislike of the feeling). It occurred to her that she should do something about that persistent headache of hers, and so broke the silence.

"Hey, Mr. McCoy, do you have anything I can take for a headache?" she asked. "My head feels like it's gonna, like, explode or something."

"Of course," Hank replied. "It's in the medicine cabinet down in the Med Bay, if you don't mind getting it for yourself. Just make sure that it's the bottle labeled 'Tylenol,' would you? I don't imagine it would be pleasant for anyone if you started hallucinating on your way to school."

"No problem." She was already beginning the process of phasing through the wall as she finished speaking. One of the distinct advantages of being a mutant was being able to travel so much faster than she would otherwise; what she would have once considered the normal route from one place to the next was now an unnecessary waste of energy in her mind. After all, wasn't the shortest path between two points a straight line?

In no time she was in the Med Bay. She heeded Hank's instructions and double checked the label on the bottle before removing it from the cupboard. She wasn't sure what all he kept in that medicine cabinet, but she had the feeling that she didn't really want to find out, especially if it was the hard way.

"…your fault Ah got no sleep last night." A familiar voice caught Kitty's attention as she made to exit the room. She pocketed the painkiller and moved closer so as to hear the conversation better. Was there another patient in the Med Bay? Judging by the good-natured tone in Rogue's voice, then she most certainly wasn't talking to—

"So you gonna make Remy suffer too?" She stood corrected. She resisted the temptation to get to a vantage point she could see from. This was too good an opportunity, too interesting a topic, too strange a conversation for her to risk discovery. If there was one person that she cared about, it was her roommate (with a close second by Fuzzy, but you can't beat female companionship), so naturally she was a little anxious when it came to her relationship with Gambit. Personally, she found that the only two problems with him were that he worked for Magneto (but that wasn't going to influence her opinion of him; her latest romantic interest was in the Brotherhood), and that sometimes he was a tad too arrogant for his own good. But all in all, she felt that a friendship with him could be healthy for her uptight friend.

"You'd better believe it, Swamp Rat." Kitty could almost see Rogue's smirk as she spoke those words in her mind's eye.

"Have pity, _chere_!" the Cajun pleaded. "An _homme_ needs his sleep t' recover!"

"You should've considered that last night," was the teasing retort. A smile was creeping over Kitty's face; it was becoming clear that wherever Rogue had been last night, it had patched things up between the two southerners, and it was a nice change of pace to hear her joking around with _anyone_, let alone someone she insisted was bad news. "You're lucky Ah went easy on ya then, but ya sure as heck aren't gettin' out of anythin' now."

"Remy was too busy enjoying de company of a _belle femme_ last night to t'ink of anyt'ing but her," was Gambit's flirtatious protest. Kitty had to stifle a giggle at this comment; in all her experience with Rogue, it had never occurred to her to use flattery to escape her wrath. Then again, it would probably only work for someone like Remy, who acted like that no matter what the occasion. In any case, despite her qualms about being caught, she would have loved to see the expression on Rogue's face.

"Well, that's your problem, isn't it?" Rogue countered with a stress on "your", not missing a beat.

"_Non,_ it be your problem if Remy has to stay for anot'er day 'cause he didn't get 'nough sleep t' get better," Remy explained patiently. "An' who d' y' t'ink he's gonna be spendin' his time wit'?"

"Look Swa—Remy," the junior requested, sobering up. Kitty made sure that she was paying attention; if it were serious enough that Rogue didn't call him 'Swamp Rat,' then it must be something important. "Ah know that y're leavin' today, and that's why Ah'm here. Ah don't know why you're not with Magneto, but whatever your reason is, just take care o' yourself Swamp Rat. Ah like kickin' the crap outta ya too much for ya ta get y'rself killed, y' hear?"

"I'm touched, _chere_, and have no intentions of leavin' de world of de living any time soon," the former Acolyte informed her, the girl's sincerity causing him to revert back to first-person, "but I t'ought dat it was you getting de crap kicked outta you last night?"

"In your dreams, Swamp Rat," Rogue scoffed, seeming a bit more comfortable with this topic than the one she had introduced.

Shadowcat found that she was grinning like a maniac, and was quite thankful for the headache that had sent her down here in the first place. Idly she looked down at her watch, wondering how long she had spent eavesdropping, and with a barely contained squeak dashed out of the Med Bay. They would have to be leaving for school soon, and Rogue would undoubtedly cut her visit short in a very small amount of time, which meant that Kitty had to get the heck out of there before she was discovered.

It was in a significantly better mood that Kathryn Pride left for school that morning. It was all she could do to keep from grinning over at Rogue every five seconds; she had a feeling that the girl wouldn't appreciate it.

Despite her improved disposition, Kitty had some difficulty staying awake during trigonometry. After the first several minutes, she gave up on keeping her eyes open as a lost cause; she understood what the teacher was saying, but her peers had yet to do so, and it would be some time until they did. It was pathetic really, the fact that she was the youngest in her class and yet she could doze off during the lesson and still comprehend it better than the vast majority—scratch that, _all_—of her classmates, including Scott and Jean.

It felt good to have her eyes closed, although she wouldn't let herself go completely to sleep. Keeping one ear on the teacher's lesson, she let her mind wander. Her latest project in computer sciences, how to manage to go to the mall that weekend, and how Lance was doing lately (she hadn't gotten a chance to talk to him in a week) were all major contenders for her attention, among other subjects. So wrapped up in her thoughts was she that when the bell rang, she jolted and sent all of her papers cascading to the ground.

She glared at the explosion of documents surrounding her desk for a moment as if merely being angry enough at it would clean it up, then set about picking up the mess. She thanked her lucky stars that next period was lunch; at least then no one would notice that she was late and give her a tardy or a detention. That was the last thing she needed at the moment.

This thanks was not needed, however, as she passed through the cafeteria doors the second that the bell sounded. Stifling a yawn she grabbed a lunch tray and made her selections, making certain that none of them contained a trace of meat. She couldn't understand how people could bear to eat food knowing that it came from the death of a living, breathing being. Of course, it didn't make any more sense that a nation that was so adamant about equality of all individuals could totally excommunicate mutants just because of the way they were born. People were just incomprehensible, she rationalized as she paid for her meal, and no one would ever be able to figure out the motives of another.

"Hey Kitty-cat!" A loud voice proclaimed over the average lunchroom ruckus, saving Kitty the trouble of having to look for a place to sit. "Over here!"

"Hi Tabby," she responded, sliding into her seat. "Long time no see."

"Yeah, they finally dragged me back," Tabitha explained impishly. "Why they think suspending a kid is supposed to be punishment is beyond me."

"One of the unanswerable mysteries of life," the brunette agreed. "They probably think you'd like, get bored to death if you're not in here or something."

"I'm more likely to get bored to death _in _here than _out_," Boom-boom informed her. "Old geezers never suspect anything during the school week; you can never manage to surprise them on weekends with all us hooligans on the prowl." The grin turned yet more impish, if possible. "Two weeks can teach you a lot about the aerodynamics of pudding."

Kitty was struck with a vision of a more-psychotic-than-usual Tabby grinning maniacally and standing beside a giant medieval catapult, surrounded by bowls and bowls of pudding and jello. She shuddered subconsciously. "Maybe they just, like, wanted to get rid of you for two weeks," she offered as an explanation for the suspension. "Make someone else have to deal with your insanity."

"I resent that," the ex X-girl declared. The girl across from her grinned. Tabitha had brought life to the team, she would give her that, and she had regretted it when the vivacious girl had left. Jubilee was the only girl that came close to filling her shoes, but she didn't quite have the boldness of her predecessor, and Tabby had her own unique brand of random that only she could manage to pull off. Kitty was just glad that the blonde had decided to stay in school instead of dropping it like she had been afraid that she would do; this way she got to talk to her mischievous friend every so often.

"Hey Speedy, come to join our conversation?" The inquiry of the subject of her thoughts brought the Chicagoan back to the moment. She looked in the same direction as Tabitha was and caught sight of a silver-haired teen that wore a most unappealing self-important expression. She made a face, realizing that her companion had just invited Pietro to participate in their discussion.

"Hardly, Boom-boom," he sneered. "I have other more important things to concentrate on than girl-talk, and besides, I don't think your little X-geek friend would appreciate it much." He smirked elegantly at them both and swaggered over to a table that wasn't quite far away from them and wasn't quite near them either. Kitty had the feeling that if he cared to he could easily listen in on their dialogue, then let the idea go. Like he had said, he had other things to concentrate on, and besides, the X-men and the Brotherhood had formed a kind of uneasy peace after the events of Apocalypse, neither side being particularly unkind to the other, but not going out of their way to be nice either.

"How did you, like, stand to live with him so long without going like completely insane?" Shadowcat asked incredulously, despite the peace; Pietro had never been one of her favorite people.

"You mean I'm not?" Tabby countered, but continued with a strangely demonic smile. "You wanna know the real secret to my success?" Kitty nodded with the growing feeling that she was going to regret asking. "Whenever he really started getting on my nerves, I'd just take a look at Lance's nice ass."

"Tabby! That's my boyfriend!" she exclaimed in shock.

"Sad but true," the blonde allowed, shaking her head mournfully. "He's not my type anyways; can't take a joke. Doesn't mean I can't admire the view though!" This set the brunette giggling as teenaged girls are wont to do. Her friend allowed this for a few moments, then thought of a question. "I thought you two decided that being 'star-crossed lovers' isn't all it's cracked up to be."

"We did a while ago," Kitty admitted, "but we thought that since we're at a cease-fire we could give it another try."

There was a brief lull in conversation, but Boom-boom had never been one for quiet, as her nickname might suggest.

"So how's life at Xavier's loony bin?"

"Like, the same as ever I guess," she commented absently, wondering exactly how much inform the younger girl about the latest crisis.

"In other words completely crazy," Tabitha interpreted sagely. "Who blew what up this time? Don't tell me it was Bobby and the toilet again; he's pulled that one way too many times for it to be funny anymore."

"No, Bobby's getting like, more creative," the vegetarian contradicted. "But like, Rogue and Gambit were like totally going at it in the library the other day. It would have been totally hilarious if I hadn't been afraid for his life."

"And Gambit would be…who?" the troublemaker wanted to know.

"He like, works for Magneto but for some reason he got in trouble and like, came to us," she explained. "Do you remember me like, telling you about Rogue getting kidnapped by one of the Acolytes? That was Gambit."

"So…what'd you rate him?" Tabby inquired, the impish grin returning. Kitty had a feeling that she was getting into something she would rather not, but still she asked,

"Like, what do you mean, 'what'd I rate him'?"

The freshman rolled her eyes as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I meant, is he totally hot or is he some freaky old fart or what?"

"I'm like, so not gonna answer that," Kitty informed her friend.

"C'mon, tell me," Tabitha wheedled. "It's your responsibility to make sure that your best friend isn't dating some complete creep!"

Kitty wished that she had been drinking something so that she could have spit it out in Tabby's face. As it was, she choked on the bite of salad she had been chewing.

"Like, there is absolutely no chance that Rogue would even think about going out with Gambit," she contradicted after regaining the ability to breathe again. "He like totally gets on her nerves, and he like, works for Magneto. She doesn't, like, trust him."

"Great, does that mean he's single?" the blonde asked, still wearing that same mischievous grin. "If you didn't say the idea of going out with him's nasty, then he's gotta be decent looking."

The brunette started giggling again at the ludicrous picture of Boom-boom and Gambit in a romantic relationship. Well, they did both make things explode… She opened her mouth to say as much, and was cut off by the ring of the bell. She said a hurried goodbye to Tabby and hurried off to computer sciences, where she could hopefully nap in peace.

Kitty yawned and dropped her bookbag on the floor next to her bed, then allowed herself to collapse onto the mattress. She debated for a moment whether or not she should take a nap or finish reading _Pride and Prejudice_, which was slowly earning a place in her list of favorite books. With a sigh she rummaged through her pack for the novel; if she allowed herself to sleep now then she probably wouldn't wake up before supper. Besides, she had a feeling that she was at the good part.

She was somewhat relieved when Rogue didn't enter the room; she liked to be alone when she read, and was starting to understand why her roommate got so upset when she pestered her. The southern girl had disappeared after their return home today, something about needing time to think. That was perfectly understandable; much as she loved company, Kitty too needed some occasional alone time. Now was just as good a time as any, she supposed, and turned her attention to the book before her.

The relationship between Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy was incredibly intriguing to her. Mr. Darcy was an incredibly arrogant man who had done nothing to endear himself to anyone but the closest of his friends, and had done nothing to endear anyone to him either. And yet he and the heroine kept being placed in awkward situations together, and somehow he had managed to fall in love with her. It was a tiny bit predictable, true, but the story was fascinating nonetheless, especially with Elizabeth's sisters added into the picture (and one of them with the same name as her too!).

A thought dawned on her, a thought so ridiculous that it made her giggle aloud. Of course, there were a few differences, but the parallels between the relationship of Rogue and Gambit compared to that of Elizabeth and Darcy were numerous enough to be amusing. She knew that the chances were miniscule that the two of them would get together, and yet the idea of that happening made her smile. Besides, this morning she had thought that even a friendship was well nigh impossible, and she had been proven wrong.

She shook her head at her own folly and reverted her attention back to the book in her hands. She was a romantic at heart and she knew it; she hoped for happy endings for everyone and imagined that she would never stop doing so, but that didn't make them any more likely to happen. She could only cross her fingers and wait to find out, and what better to pass the time with than reading?

She didn't stop reading until dinner, so absorbed in the story was she. She noted that Rogue was silent throughout the majority of the meal, but then again that wasn't particularly anything new. The other girl just wasn't the talkative type, and if she spoke up then you could bet that she would get the full attention of her audience. A smart way to do things, Kitty figured; people would actually _listen_ to the other girl. Then again, she enjoyed conversation too much to give the strategy a try, and even if she did her reputation as a chatterbox was already too well established for it to do her any good.

After they headed to their room—Shadowcat was most pleased to see that her friend was willing to spend time in the same room as her again—the pair of them spent the remainder of the night reading. The younger of the pair finished her book first, and happily donned her pajamas, contemplating the satisfactory ending. As she climbed into bed she glanced up at her still-reading roommate, and for a moment pondered whether it would be a good idea to interrogate her at the moment, and rejected the idea. She was still on shaky footing with Rogue, so she didn't want to push it, especially while she was engrossed in a book. She snuggled down under the covers, back to her friend's lit reading lamp. Besides, tomorrow was another day; it wasn't like she couldn't talk to her then. With that happy thought, she drifted off into oblivion.

Of course, she was wrong.


	6. Minding your own Knitting

Disclaimer: If I owned X-men Evolution, I would have gone to Japan for vacation. The fact remains that I did not, so make your own assumptions.

A/N: If I blame it on finals, will you forgive me? (I'd blame it on my sister, who has fallen madly in love with a Squirrel that lives three hours away, but then she'd get angry because that actually has very little to do with the completion of this chapter)

I bet I'm gonna surprise y'all with the perspective of this chapter. Or maybe not. In any case, I just couldn't resist; people usually portray him as some sort of nut-job with nothing in his head but smoke, and I thought I'd try for a new interpretation of the workings of his inner psyche. I think I rather like what I came up with, because it fits his personality but isn't terribly mean. I just love this guy! (Can you guess who it is yet?)

On another note, do you have any idea how hard it is to come up with insulting things to say about Colossus? He's just the biggest sweetheart in the world, and it took me days to come up with anything remotely rude to say about him. Originally when I was writing this and I got to the part where Rogue insults him, I actually put in "—you oversized, insulting adjectives, insulting noun!" so that I could continue writing without having to stop to think. I love him, too.

Oh yeah, and the other day I was reading a section on Russia for this history course I'm taking, and one of the bolded vocab words was colossus! Is that not cool?

Reviews! (I'm going to say sorry right now to everyone for not updating quickly)

ishandahalf: So you're a fan too? That totally rocks, and kudos to you for picking up on it. And I'm glad that you liked my version of Kitty. Out of all the X-men, I relate to her the best, so that's probably why.

bored247: yeah, I'm trying to put each chapter in a different person's pov for a little variety. I'm going to repeat a bit, true, but I think it makes things a little more interesting.

RubyTuesday13: You too? It always gets on my nerves when people insert too many likes, so I get paranoid about whether I do the same thing. And yeah, I talk like that a bit too.So the thing with the catapult was my attempt at being random...is it just me, or is it harder to be random when you're trying to be? I mean I come up with the strangest things independantly, but when I attempt to channel it, it goes up in smoke. I'm glad that you understand me enough to know by now that I'm going to try my beset to do the unexpected, but it's also interesting to see what people think's gonna happen. I'm still amazed that you like my story so much, so thanks! It inspires me.

Tigerlilly1234: So you want competition, huh? If you're dead set on it, I'll try to put in just a tad, but be careful what you wish for. After all, if I recall correctly, in the original Rogue had and affair with Magneto... And don't worry about Tabby. I was only trying to be silly with that, so there's no danger from her.

Prexistence: Like I just said, no danger from Tabby. But I'm afraid that it might take awhile before Rogue and Remy get together... (have no fear though; they will. Eventually)

Rogue gaL: You know, I just readover the last two chapters,and you're totally right. I can't believe I didn't see it before; thanks for telling me. I'll try to tone it downa little more for you.

A.M. Bookworm 247: I'm bizarre? And random? Hooray! That's exactly what I was going for. Thanks for your encouragement. But what exactly did you mean that I'm "at least making an effort not to be repetative?" Elaborate please, and if I'm not totally succeeding, don't be afraid to let me know. I welcome crticism with open arms.

Chapter 5:

Minding your own Knitting

St. John Allerdyce was bored. He was totally, completely, utterly, absolutely, invariably, incurably, hopelessly, eternally, maddeningly bored, and if there was one thing he hated, it was being bored.

Usually boredom wasn't a problem—he had hobbies just like any bloke, and when those got tiresome he could always turn to Remy to offer distraction. But now Remy wasn't there, and he had read every book in his (small) collection, assembled a scale model airplane, watched television to the point of nausea, and knitted three sweaters and a pair of mittens despite the fact that summer was nearing. All that in the course of two weeks, and now there was absolutely nothing to occupy him.

It was usually at this point in his boredom, if Remy had not intervened by now, that he would turn with great reluctance to whatever Magneto had assigned him to do, but now he was denied even that limited relief. At first he had been called upon frequently to investigate several places where Remy might be supposed to be, then less and less often as time progressed. He had gotten lucky once when Sabertooth's nose had been at his disposal, but after that red-headed sheila had run off with him the man's scent had simply disappeared, leaving no way for Pussy to track him. After that, the calls to look for the Cajun had ceased for the most part.

"Crikey, the guy's a pain in the arse even when he's gone," he muttered to himself, lounging on a couch in his tedium.

He didn't know why Gambit had up and left like he had. Certainly the man didn't particularly care for Magneto's ideals, but that had never been much of a problem before. He had a debt to repay, he had said, and he would stay until he had paid it off and was ready to leave. Apparently he had decided to bail, though, and that had been a mistake—getting on the boss's bad side always was. He wished that Remy had at least offered to take him too.

It wasn't that John was unhappy being with Magneto. On the contrary; being an Acolyte was his best, and probably only, option. Magneto had seemed to be adept at getting his prospective "employees" out of sticky situations. Pyro's own could only have ended badly, and now…now he had nowhere to go. Magneto gave him freedom, an understanding that he knew he would be hard pressed to find elsewhere; who would accept a pyromaniac like him but another maniac? For the most part, life as an Acolyte was good, and if keeping that meant that he had to get into the occasional tussle, so be it.

Sometimes he wondered what it would be to have a life of his own though, to make his own choices. And he imagined that he would enjoy having control over what he did and when he did it. But he knew that on his own he wouldn't stand a chance; when they had thought Magneto dead, he had been helpless to fend for himself, had been stunned into non-action. That alone was enough to tell him that he needed someone to instruct him on what to do, that he couldn't survive on his own. It was something that he resented and longed to change about himself, but accepted it nonetheless. And yet, he wondered if Magneto's guidance was the kind that he needed, or even desired. Once or twice he had pondered whether he could turn to Xavier, but he knew that was out of the question, especially now that he had been established as the enemy. But if Remy had left—Remy and Piotr were the first real friends he'd had in a long, long time, and he didn't think he would have minded abandoning Magneto with either of them (had Colossus been free to abandon).

Reminded of the large Russian, Pyro wondered briefly where he was. Piotr was quiet, granted, and his answer to all boredom was reading, but he was a decent sort and being bored in company was much better than being bored alone. But unfortunately Colossus was absent, and although he had the feeling that if he tried he could find Jason or "Victor" (that name had never sat right with him; it didn't seem to fit the man's personality), for some reason the idea wasn't all that appealing.

With a mournful sigh, St. John flicked his lighter open. If all else failed, his fire would never let him down, although, despite common belief it had become his last resort. Playing with fire for extended periods of time tended to have similar effects on his mind as alcohol did on most people, although the physical results of booze such as the slurring of speech and lack of coordination didn't normally apply. Generally he was crazy enough without being drunk on flame, so when he did play with his fire it generally resulted in some rather psychopathic behavior, and he had decided that it would be better if he refrained for the most part. Not that he never lit up now and then (he loved fire too much to go long without it), but he usually contented himself with just watching it rather than interacting with it.

"—you oversized, frostbitten, walkin' tin can! If you don't put me down right now Ah swear Ah'll make sure that you won't have the capacity to pick up a toothbrush for a year, let alone any poor unsuspectin' girls that you happen to kidnap!" The feminine voice carried through John's open door, and he snapped the lighter shut with a click. He certainly did not recognize _that_ particular voice, and the owner of it could only be insulting Piotr. He wondered briefly who the gentle-natured Russian could possibly have kidnapped that was that tempestuous, then decided to go find out.

He stepped out into the cold, unwelcoming hallway and glanced around, trying to locate his friend. This was not hard, being as the man stood six feet and four inches high, was only five yards to John's right and completely metal, and had a highly irritated teenaged girl slung over his back, who was continuing in the verbal abuse of her captor.

"Oi, Pete! I don't think she likes bein' carried like a sack o' potatoes," he pointed out, lounging comfortably against the wall and flicking the cap of his lighter open and shut.

"Do me a favor, would you?" the girl requested, lifting her head to glare at him. "Go play with your precious fire in _hell_. Ah hear there's plenty of it down there for ya to have fun with."

Piotr turned around to face his fellow Acolyte. "I got that distinct impression myself," he commented, as if his captive were causing as much trouble as the sack of potatoes she had been compared to would. He turned back around and continued on his course, and having found at last some source of entertainment Pyro followed after the pair.

"C'mon now, sheila, that's not very nice," he informed her. "What'd I evah do ta you?"

"Besides exist?" she snapped back, fixing him with a glare that would have been very intimidating had she not been dangling over the shoulder of a very large man. "The name X-men ring any bells for ya?"

"Oh, right, I knew I'd seen you somewheah befoah," the fire-lover exclaimed, smacking himself on the forehead. "Yo'ah that Rogue sheila, aren't you? Nice ta meet ya. I'm—"

"An inferno-obsessed freak that doesn't know when to shut up and would be better off wrestlin' alligators 'down under' that rock where he came from," Rogue interrupted, struggling to keep her head up so that she could administer her famous death-glare, but for the most part failing because it took a great deal of neck-muscle that she didn't have to do so.

"You've got it all wrong, Roguey," St. John told her with benevolent patience. "Steve Irwin wrestles _crocodiles_, luv, not alligators. And t' tell the truth, I'm much bettah at knittin' than croc wrestlin'. I actually just finished a sweatah a couple o' days ago, brilliant orange it is, must say that it'd look good on Petey heah but he refuses to try it on, which is really a shame because it's much too big on me and Pussy'd just shred it up, so it's a waste of perfectly gorgeous yarn, and if I'd known when I started that he wouldn't like it I would've made one in my size, but there's nothin' foah it now."

Quite surprisingly, Rogue had nothing to say to this effeminate outburst. However, Piotr did.

"It was a knotted mass of yarn that just happened to have head and arm holes," he remarked. "I do not think that the word 'sweater' quite applied."

"It would look like a sweatah if you'd just—" Pyro stopped mid-sentence and fixed his friend with a suspicious glare. "Hey, wait a second, whaddya mean, it _was_?"

"Not that Ah'm not fascinated by this conversation of yours," Rogue interrupted sarcastically, "But would you mind tellin' me what the hell Ah'm here for anyway? Ah was under the impression that the Professor and ol' Buckethead had called a truce."

"I do not know why you are needed," Colossus informed her, finally turning off into one of the side hallways. John recognized it immediately, despite the monotony of everything in the complex. They were taking her to what he affectionately called the dungeon, because that was really what it was: a place to keep any captives that Magneto deemed worthy of keeping. "I only know that I was instructed to retrieve you, and I have."

"Ouah deah Lord Buckethead bestows much faith on us," Pyro told her proudly, not being able to resist the opportunity for a joke. "Trusts us as fah as a koala can fly."

Any chance for a retort was lost as they finally reached one of the holding cells— apparently the one that Rogue had been assigned to. Piotr punched a code into a pad in the wall, and the doors swooshed open. John had to repress a giggle every time he heard that sound; he didn't know why he thought it was so amusing, but he did. It probably had something to do with the fact that as a child he had seen more than his share of Star Trek.

"Yoah chambah, milady," he told her, motioning at the door in a wide, exaggerated gesture in his phoniest imitation of a butler. Piotr quite cooperatively walked her inside and deposited her on the uncomfortable-looking bed therein, then made sure to get back to the door before she could make a move on the offensive.

"If there is anything you require that is in our power to give to you, we will do our best to do so," the Russian offered, and closed the door in the middle of a rude comeback. "She is…quite spirited."

"Yeah, and I only like fiah a _little _bit," he agreed sarcastically, watching the girl curse at them from behind the plexi-glass window that had been installed for the very purpose of keeping an eye on the inhabitant of the cell.

"This is news to me," the large man commented, and if it weren't for the crinkling of his eyes in suppressed mirth Pyro would have thought he was serious. It took a while to get used to this impassive bloke, but months of companionship had taught him how to read the infinitesimal changes in his expression. He really was more perceptive than people thought he was; he just didn't act the part most of the time.

"Same heah," St. John agreed as if he hadn't been the one to introduce the idea in the first place. "So Mags really didn't tell you what he needed 'er foah?"

"He did not," Piotr repeated, but the phrase felt incomplete to his companion.

"But…" he prompted impatiently.

"But I believe that it may have something to do with the departure of Remy," Colossus continued, if somewhat reluctantly. "Of course, I do not have anything to back my suspicions with, but the feeling remains."

"But what would kidnappin' a sheila have to do with bringin' Remy back?" the red-head asked pensively, not rejecting the idea but rather pondering the reasoning behind such a ploy.

"Perhaps Magneto feels that this girl has some sort of connection to him," Piotr suggested, beginning to walk away from the imprisoning room.

"But what…" Once more Pyro smacked his forehead upon remembrance. "Back when we thought Mags was dead, that Wolverine fellah and a bunch o' his mates came 'round askin' wheah the heck Remy was, think I remember 'im sayin' somethin' about him kidnappin' someone. Y' think she's the gal he ran off with?"

"It is a possibility," the Russian agreed. "I suppose that we will find out one way or the other soon enough, but I would much rather know now what it is we are dealing with."

"Them's the breaks, Petey," John lamented sympathetically. "Now if you don't mind, I think I've got some knittin' to attend to."

"Not another sweater, I hope?"

"'Course not," was the reply, and he could see the other man visibly relax. "I think I'm ready to move on to biggah and bettah things. Like a blanket…oah maybe a bathing suit…" St. John Allerdyce retreated into his room, still listing various items that were possible (and several that were not) to knit. Piotr stood in the hallway for a moment in puzzlement before shaking his head and moving on. Pyro certainly was an odd one; there was no denying that.

In the end the Aussie decided to make a shawl out of some delicate dark green yarn he had found lying around. He found it strange that there would be so much yarn in the Acolyte base, but if it was there he wouldn't complain. He had probably bought it ages ago and forgotten about it completely; either that or his jest about Sabertooth playing with a giant ball of yarn all that time ago hadn't been such a stretch of the truth.

Upon reflection, he supposed that it must seem rather strange for him to spend so much time knitting. It was a talent he had picked up toward the beginning of his term with Magneto; he had been bored and as a result had been prying into Remy's personal life. Needless to say, the Cajun had not been pleased and instructed him to "mind your own knittin'," and out of sheer spite he had decided to learn how. Soon after, he had realized that he rather enjoyed the domestic pastime, and had continued to improve the talent until he had reached his current skill. Strange, yes; but it kept him occupied, and that was the key thing.

Shawls were tricky things, what with all the different patterns that you needed to make in order for it to be vaguely attractive, and the fact that it was triangular rather than square or even circular. That was most of the reason John had decided to make one; it would require so much of his attention that he would have little room to be bored. And he figured that even though shawls were feminine things, he needed something to do, and if all else failed it couldn't hurt to give it to that "Rogue" sheila.

He was muttering the instructions for the piece under his breath when a pair of voices distracted him.

"…certain that he was with Xavier?" The first voice—one that he did not recognize—inquired.

"According to my son he was, although whether he still is or not has yet to be determined," the second voice replied. This time Pyro knew it right away; he would have to be some kind of idiot not to know what his own employer sounded like. He finished the row he was working on and set down his work, creeping to the door of his room so that he could hear better.

"Then we will have to do a few preliminary scans on her to make sure that she is not infected," the first voice informed Magneto. "Otherwise everyone in this base is at risk, something that I believe I am correct in saying that you would not be partial to. Have any of your men come into contact with her?"

"Colossus only," was the ready response. "Sabertooth and Pyro did interact with the carrier several days ago, but we believe that that was prior to its activation. I shall make certain that Colossus remains quarantined until you have the opportunity to check him as well."

"Good. I will start immediately then." John heard one pair footsteps heading away from him, and another pair leading towards his room. Realizing that one of the men probably meant to speak to him, he scrambled to pick up his knitting again and look innocent. He managed to do so just as the door to his room swooshed open, revealing Magneto.

"Pyro," the mastermind bit out. "I have a job for you."

"Say the word and I'm on it," St. John replied, resisting the temptation to say something—anything—humorous.

"You will deliver the X-men a message," were his instructions. "They will restore Gambit to me and they will receive Rogue in return. If not…she stays with us. And do try not to cause _too_ much damage; we only want Gambit, not an all-out war."

"Yes sih, right away sih," he barked smartly, mentally adding _As soon as I finish this row, anyhow._ Magneto's power, however, was to control metal rather than read minds like his adversary, so he nodded and pivoted, cape billowing out behind him. As the doors closed once more, John wondered how in the world the man managed not to get his cape caught in any of them, the way it always ballooned out. He shrugged and made the last stitch to the row he had been working on, then reluctantly set aside the soon-to-be shawl.

He pondered what he had just been told as he donned his uniform. So his dear friend Piotr had been correct as usual: Rogue was indeed being used to get Remy back. But what had Magneto been talking about with whomever that was in the hallway? What exactly were they afraid of her passing on to everyone else? Knowing Magneto, it must be something pretty serious if it got him worried. Perhaps he should let them know that he had been in contact with her, he contemplated as he made certain that the hoses connected to his gas tank were secure, but rejected the idea. That would mean admitting that he had been eavesdropping—something that generally wasn't a good idea whilst dealing with Eric Lensherr—and it probably wasn't any of his business anyway. He would "mind his own knitting" for the moment, and concentrate on the unpleasant task at hand.

St. John got a sinking feeling as he realized the magnitude of the task before him. He had a hunch that that Wolverine fellow wouldn't be too happy to hear what he had to say.

He stood in front of the gate, postponing the inevitable as long as possible. He did not want to do this. He _really_ did not want to do this. He would much rather be bored than inform the X-men that Rogue was being held for ransom, but there was nothing for it. However, considering the circumstances he had decided that it would be a much better idea to tell them straight out instead of causing a massive fire, having them rush to the scene, and leaving a cryptic message with them. He shook his head; Piotr was rubbing off on him more than he had thought; a few months ago he would have carried out the assignment in that alternative manner, and in fact had done so on several occasions. Nevertheless, this method was much safer, and he was sticking to it.

Granted that Wolverine was not the one answering the door.

John sucked in a deep breath and rang the doorbell, praying madly that he would be answered by someone reasonable.

"You've reached Xavier's insane asylum, how may I help—" a young male voice began, but was cut off by another, feminine one.

"Bobby, get away from there! I'm sorry sir but—" the speaker was cut off by the first one.

"Jean!" the first speaker, apparently Bobby, proclaimed in sudden realization. "That's one of Magneto's goons! You can't let him in!"

"I can't tell him to go away unless he's being violent or threatening our safety. We have a truce, remember?"

"But you said that he was one of the guys that was attacking Gambit! He's a lunatic! He's gonna try and set the mansion on fire or something!"

"Emmm…" Pyro interjected, looking oddly at the camera pointed at him. "You do realize that I can heah everythin' you're sayin', right mates?"

"I'm sorry…Pyro was it?" Jean apologized, apparently gaining control over the situation. "You'll have to excuse Bobby; we're all a little edgy at the moment."

"Because someone freakin' kidnapped Rogue!" Iceman put in. "I'll bet you anything that they're the ones behind it! They probably sent him with a ransom message!"

"Bobby, that's _enough_!" Jean reprimanded sternly. "How many times do I have to tell you that just because we don't always agree with Magneto doesn't mean that he's behind everything bad that ever happens to us? I apologize again, Pyro; he doesn't know what he's—"

"Er…funny thing, sheila, but…the bloke's got the gist of it," Pyro told the camera awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Lord Buckethead wanted me to tell you blokes that if you evah wanted ta see yoah little Roguey again ya'd best hand ovah the Cajun. Sorry foah the trouble…I'll just be goin' now…" And before the surveillance team had a chance to reply, St. John high-tailed it out of there.

As he put the gate to the institute behind him, he could have sworn he heard the boy's voice ask, "Lord Buckethead?" but he didn't stick around for the message to sink in. He would mind his own knitting, he told himself, not get involved in anything he didn't have to. He flicked open his lighter as he made his way down the road and idly sculpted the flames. He needed a little relief right about now, and fire was always a definite way to lift his spirits back up. Duck, butterfly, flower, an army of evil monkeys bent on ruling the world…

St. John began to feel a little lightheaded. He allowed the flame to disappear and stopped for a moment, putting a hand to his head as he made an attempt to steady himself. The dizzy spell soon passed, and with an indifferent shrug he continued on his merry way.


	7. An Explanation and a Sandwich

A/N: Oh my gosh guys, I cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am. I know, I know, useless apologies; it always bugs me to heck when I read these. But I truly am sorry. I just kept telling myself, "I'll update next week," and "next week" ended up being close to "next year." So I hope this will be worth the wait, and also that next time I will be more speedy in my updates.

Gr. no longer allows review responses. I am very angry about this.

Chapter 6:

An Explanation and a Sandwich

Piotr looked discreetly at the girl who sat glowering in a chair in the corner of the claustrophobic, white-washed quarantine room. She did not look very happy at all to be stuck in such close quarters with him, and he didn't blame her; he was, after all, the one that brought her here in the first place. She knew nothing of who he was, and he wasn't any better off. The only thing that he could be certain of was that if Magneto couldn't control _all_ metal, she would have stolen his power and broken out of there in an instant. As it was, she seemed to be contemplating the pros and cons of attempting such a jailbreak.

Frankly, Piotr had no idea why he was being kept there either. He had been commanded to report to the medical wing—why they had a medical wing and no doctors besides the one that had to be called in from New York City whenever they had the need was a mystery to him—and had done so. He had had no choice but to stand patiently while he was poked and prodded by that same doctor, and stand perfectly still while the man had taken blood sample after blood sample. He supposed the same had happened to the girl he was being detained with, but he didn't know for a fact. As his friend Pyro had aptly noted just a few hours earlier, Magneto trusted his henchmen with very little information besides what was necessary for them to carry out their jobs.

That was one of the reasons that he so despised working for the master of metal; he was treated as if he were a robot with no feelings, thoughts, or desires of his own. That might have been bearable if the goals of his leader were good; however, he fancied that if the man had been one of the "good-guys," he wouldn't treat his allies such as he did. But despite how much the Russian disliked Magneto's intentions, methods, and personality, he was stuck. He had once, just once, lost his temper and tried with all his might to get free of this man's rule, and his attempt had failed. It was a memory that he remembered with the deepest satisfaction and regret: satisfaction that he had tried, that he had made Magneto squirm; regret that he had failed, that he was still trapped and that his family remained in danger.

With the remembrance of that rebellion he let out a deep sigh. If Remy had not stepped in, goodness knew how badly he would have been hurt. It appeared that not even Remy, whose family ties had all been severed, was permitted to leave—if his suspicion for the girl's presence was correct. He felt a deep pang of sorrow for his friend; much as he missed the Cajun's company, he wished with all his heart that one of them at least would be free from this living nightmare.

In response to this expression of emotion, Rogue looked up at him, and he met her eyes. Her mouth opened as if to say something, and Piotr prepared himself for the seventh episode in the ongoing series of verbal abuse he had suffered at the hands of this Southern girl. But when she did speak, it was not at all what had been expected; in fact, it was not even directed at him.

"_You,_" she growled, with a surprising amount of venom in her voice. Piotr swiveled in his seat to see the recipient of that loathing, and was met with the sight of the man to whose whim he was the slave. He carefully kept his face straight as he mentally sympathized with the young woman's feelings. Unaware of this silent approval, she stood and strode across the room to confront Magneto in a more intimidating position than she had been previously.

"Ah want answers and Ah want them now. Why did you have him kidnap me? If you need a lab rat you can stick ta usin' your own men, 'cuz Ah'm not gonna cooperate one little bit. Ah think you'll find that it's hard for a doctor, let alone one o' your mad scientist-types, to do much of anythin' to a girl without touchin' her skin."

"My dear Rogue," Erik stated, more bemused than intimidated by this opposition, "I plan to do nothing of the sort."

"O' course, if you're not gonna tell me, Ah can always take the answers myself…" Rogue threatened, loosening a glove in a manner more threatening than Piotr would have thought possible. It occurred to him that perhaps he should protect his "master," but he dismissed the thought. If he needed help, Magneto would ask for it; besides, there was really very little motivation to rescue the man from being knocked out for a few hours when it was that very feat that Colossus often wished to achieve.

"If I was concerned that you would be able to absorb me, I would not have entered the room until you were restrained." At this, the girl's glare grew fiercer—if that was possible—and she opened her mouth for a cutting remark, which was cut off as Magneto continued. "However, I have no wish to make this any more difficult than it needs to be, so I will humor your request. Please, have a seat."

Suspiciously Rogue sat in one of the many chairs present with crossed arms, Magneto choosing to stand before her. "Good," she muttered, just loud enough to be heard. "Ah'm not sure Ah wanted you runnin' around in my head anyway."

With some curiosity Piotr observed Erik's behavior. The man was being surprisingly polite, allowing the girl to take liberties that he did not allow in his own men. This was an intriguing development; if Rogue were merely a pawn, then not only would Magneto not be so polite but probably not even bother to speak with her.

He pondered briefly whether the man even realized his presence, or if he was just being pointedly ignored. Whatever the case, he decided it best to keep quiet for the time being.

"To be blunt, I had you kidnapped so that Gambit would be returned to me," Magneto informed her matter-of-factly, hardly a hint of remorse in his face or voice.

"Like Ah'm gonna believe that," Rogue returned. It seemed to Piotr that she was caught halfway between anger and disbelief. Although gratified to hear his theory proven correct, he could not blame her for her doubt. This discussion would not be happening if that was the only reason she was there; of that much he was certain. "Ah find it hard to believe that you would go outta your way ta have a gal kidnapped just so you can get that addle-pated Cajun back." Piotr raised an eyebrow at her low regard for Remy, but stood by his plan to stay unnoticed. He was grateful that he had such good self-control; had he not, he would have let a chuckle slip.

"Of course there were other factors in my decision," the master of magnetism admitted. "You see, without Gambit, we are down in numbers, and there are several pressing issues that we must attend to without much more delay."

"Ya want to recruit me," Rogue interpreted flatly, making the Russian curious as to exactly how many people had tried to recruit her in the past.

"Not recruit…simply borrow for a time," was the reply.

"Ah'm not doin' it." The firm declaration made confidence swell in Piotr's heart. At least this one girl would be escaping the clutches of the diabolical mutant; at least one less person would need to go through what he had. It gave him hope that perhaps he too might be able to be set free someday. "Ah don't care what you have to say. Ah'm not gonna join your team, no matter how temporary you say it is, and you're crazier than Ah thought you were if you assumed that Ah was gonna bow down to ya just like that."

"I had indeed planned for the necessity of further persuasion," Magneto admitted coolly, scarcely batting an eyelash at Rogue's assertion, and Piotr had to struggle to cling to that newfound hope. His master's methods of persuasion most often made it difficult to say no.

"Then you'd better start persuadin', 'cuz it's gonna take a lot of convincin' for me ta sign on with _you_." Another strong yank from the home team of the cruel tug-of-war in which his emotions played the role of the rope. He could only watch helplessly as the flag tied around the center was pulled back and forth by these two strong opponents.

"And what if I were to tell you that it is as much for the safety of your own friends as to help me that you would be assisting my Acolytes?" It was rather difficult not to see the implications in that statement, and slowly he felt his optimism begin to submerge in despair; if that was the way Magneto was going to play it, there was little doubt that the man would win.

"Is that a threat?" Rogue demanded, glaring angrily and defiantly up at the man who held her future in the palm of his hand.

"In a manner of speaking," Erik conceded, "although by no account am I doing the threatening. You see, I have reason to believe that your friends are in danger from another party, one that our esteemed Professor Xavier has yet to recognize. I, however, have undertaken the task of opposing this new foe—which is the cause you will be aiding should you decide to take me up on my offer."

"Ah'm still not buyin' it." The girl's skepticism was reassuring, and an emotion that Piotr seconded; certainly if there was any such party he would have heard of it by now, even if his master didn't trust him. Mentally he urged her along the same path that she wouldn't get caught in the same trap he had. Whether or not she heard him though, she continued speaking. "If the X-men're in such great danger, why didn't ya just tell us instead 'a keepin' it secret and workin' behind our backs? You know we're perfectly able ta protect ourselves if we know what we're up against. Half the time we don't even have that much and we do just fine."

"I have my reasons," Magneto informed her cryptically, "and you will have to trust them."

"If that's all ya have to say for yourself, then you'd better find yourself another girl, 'cuz there ain't no way Ah'm trustin' your judgement unless you back it up." With every word that she spoke, Piotr found himself admiring Rogue more and more. She wasn't about to go down without a fight, and despite the apparent rashness of her words, there was an odd sense of judiciousness behind them.

A frustrated sigh escaped Magneto's lips. "I suppose I should have expected no less," he said, giving Piotr the distinct impression that it was half-directed at the speaker himself. "Very well then; it seems I have no choice but to explain myself." Here he inserted a dramatic pause, a technique that Colossus supposed he must have perfected over his long years as a leader—for, despite his loathing of everything from Magneto's ideals to his methods, he was forced to admit that the man was a good leader.

"There were a number of factors in my decision whether or not to tell Xavier. Of course, there's always the suspicion and distrust between our two teams whenever we attempt to collaborate. And who, for that matter, is to say that the X-men would believe my story in the first place, especially after Gambit has told you who knows what lies about the current situation?

"Of course, this suspicion would not be ill-founded, as I was the one that, however indirectly, allowed our enemy to gain its power. I knew about their strongest weapon all along, and yet I did nothing to stop it, not thinking that it would become a serious threat. My actions might even be misconstrued as encouragement of this scheme, and because it was partially due to me that this danger culminated, I have every intention of handling it without having to turn to the supporters of an opposing cause for assistance.

"And even if I did inform Xavier, what difference do you suppose it would make? He would insist on making certain of the threat and probably would not be ready to act until the menace is upon us. If by some miracle he were, he would be hesitant to take the necessary courses of action against this enemy to prevent it from harming anyone, and in the meantime would condemn my actions if I were to do as I feel is right. No, by leaving Xavier out of this it only prevents the matter from becoming needlessly complicated and will undoubtedly save him and the rest of your friends a great deal of worry in the meantime. It is as simple as that; you may believe me, or you may not, but I have laid my cards on the table and so it is your move, my dear."

"Why does everyone insist on callin' me that?" Rogue inquired, as far as Piotr could tell a rather irrelevant question in light of everything that had just been revealed. "Ah don't know who you've been talkin' to, but Ah'm not the Professor's dear, Ah'm not Gambit's dear, and Ah sure as hell am not _your_ dear." She paused for a moment as the large Russian recovered from the capricious outburst, then continued as calmly as if she were a lake and her previous flare of temper a mere ripple that was already dying away. "Just thought we might want ta get that cleared up right now so Ah can say Ah warned ya next time ya call me that."

"So am I to believe that there will _be_ a next time?" Piotr's breath caught in his throat. This was undoubtedly the moment of truth, the moment that this poor, unsuspecting girl's fate would be decided. Of course, it was possible that Magneto would be willing to let her go…but why go to such trouble to recruit her if he wasn't going to keep her? The young man prayed that she would be able to evade this cunningly hid snare, or at least that once caught she could free herself.

"Exactly how long would this last?" she wanted to know. Piotr closed his eyes, defeated. There was some consolation in the fact that she had held out for so long; perhaps she would be different than him; perhaps _she_ would be willing to take the risk of escape.

"Until Gambit returns," was the prompt reply. Colossus looked up again at the girl and her contemplative, untrusting expression.

"What if he doesn't return?" she asked slowly, as if thinking the offer through.

"Trust me, Gambit will return."

"_What if he doesn't return_?" Rogue asked again, this time more forcefully. This elicited a smile from Piotr; at the very least she was not going to allow herself to be outwitted in their negotiation. Again Magneto sighed.

"Then you may leave once the danger to your friends from this particular opponent has passed," Erik allowed, seeming to begrudge the Southerner for picking up on the detail.

"No killin'," the auburn-haired teen accentuated. "Ah'm not goin' to kill anyone or compromise my morals, and Ah won't be involved if anyone else that Ah'm workin' with goes against 'em either. Soon as that happens, Ah'm outta here. And if you break any part of our deal, you're gonna find yourself in over your head. Somethin' tells me that you're not gonna be able ta control any metal if you're unconscious."

"Duly noted," Magneto stated with a somewhat amused expression, as though he didn't take any threat that Rogue could offer seriously. Piotr's smile turned into what passed for a smirk for him; if the manipulator of metal did indeed break the contract, he wouldn't only find himself in danger from the X-men.

"And you're gonna tell Xavier that Ah'm not bein' tortured or anythin' while Ah'm here," Rogue added as an afterthought. "If Ah'm really gonna help y'all, then I don't think it'd be appreciated if they try ta rescue me."

"It has already been taken care of. Now, if you don't have any further questions, Colossus will escort you to your room," Erik announced, and the named mutant jumped a little at being addressed after so long observing rather than participating in the conversation. "It has been provided with sufficient clothing, given that you are not opposed to washing it when needed. My Acolytes routinely have training sessions for two hours every morning starting at seven, excepting Saturdays. I expect you to be there as well. Meals are generally taken on an individual basis; you will find various foodstuffs in the kitchen. You may feel free to move about the building, but under no circumstances are you to leave the premises without permission. If there is anything you need, you may inform myself or Colossus if I am not to be found. I believe that covers everything?" He barely waited for the curt nod of affirmation before continuing. "Good. I shall summon you when your presence is required."

Having concluded his speech, Magneto turned on his heel and exited the room. Briefly Piotr contemplated why the man's cape never seemed to get caught in the automated doors before turning to the matter at hand.

"If I am not mistaken, we are free to go," the far larger mutant commented, standing and moving towards the door. "Would you care for me to show you to your room?"

"Somethin' tells me it doesn't matter whether Ah care for you to do anythin' or not," Rogue informed him, "seein' as Ah have no idea how ta get anywhere in this labyrinth you call a base, and Ah'd like ta avoid the Minotaur."

With a wordless smile Colossus led her through the maze of hallways, wondering all the while which mutant she considered the Minotaur.

It had been several hours since Piotr had last visited reality, and his mind was slightly disoriented as he closed the novel he had just finished. It was the same feeling that he always got after reaching the ending of a good book, and no matter how often it happened it always seemed new to him. He gave himself a moment to readjust to his surroundings and his own body, then stood up cautiously to address the sensation that almost always followed such a reading spree, once the initial fog had lifted from his mind.

He encountered no one on the way to the kitchen; however, as he neared it an irregular clattering made itself known to his ears. Briefly he weighed his options: whether it would be better to steer clear and let Pyro complete whatever nonsensical task he had set for himself without interference, or to step in and save not only the other Acolytes from St. John's insanity but the carrot-topped Aussie himself. It was inevitable though that he, being the only reasonably responsible member of the team, would need to clean up whatever mess was being created sooner or later, and he preferred to minimize the amount of work that he would have to put in, and so continued, resignedly, in his path.

But the scene that greeted him upon arrival was not at all what he had expected it would be. In the place of a mentally unstable young man cooking something that would undoubtedly be both dangerous and inedible was a rather annoyed-looking young woman that was seated amidst a sea of pots and pans on the tiled kitchen floor. He stood, for the moment, more or less unnoticed in the doorway, and thus was he able to discover what on earth she was doing before being berated for his mere presence. And as he was becoming accustomed to in regards to this particular girl, it was one of the last things he would have expected of her.

"I did not think that you would be concerned with the arrangement of the kitchen after so short a time here," he commented quietly, deciding it best to make himself known to her rather than risk finding out how she reacted when surprised. As it was he found himself fixed with a particularly intimidating glare as she made her reply.

"Ah wouldn't be if Ah hadn't been buried in a pile of crockery the second Ah opened the cabinet," she retorted. "Whoever put this stuff away had some pretty cruddy organizational skills. Ah dunno 'bout you and your buddies, but Ah generally don't like bein' attacked by cookware when Ah'm lookin' for somethin' halfway decent ta eat."

"It is something of a miracle that most of them are clean," Colossus informed her, carefully picking his way through the stainless-steel maze. "I have only known one person to convince Victor to do any manner of housework, and my other comrades are only marginally better."

Rogue snorted, placing the final pot on the top of a tower of the same manner of items that Colossus hadn't realized were a set until this point. "Not like Ah should've expected anythin' else from a bunch 'a males," she muttered, apparently to herself. Piotr frowned slightly, then knelt to assist the temporary Acolyte in her task.

"And I suppose that things are better at Xavier's?" he asked pointedly, handing her a stack of neatly arranged cookie sheets.

"If you've ever met Jean Grey, you wouldn't need ta ask," he was told as the sheets were taken from his grip. "It's her mission in life ta make sure every single detail is absolutely _faultless_ and not imperfect in the slightest" The girl pulled a face that showed what exactly she thought of that mindset before turning her head to glare at him. "And Ah don't believe Ah asked for your help."

"You did not," the large Russian conceded, leaving the last stack of dishware where she could easily reach it, and stood up slowly. "But you received it," he added before turning to rummage through the cabinets. He could practically feel the glare directed at his back, but there was no response to his statement. "Perhaps you would like something to eat?"

"Ah just said Ah did, didn't Ah?" She snapped in response as she closed the cabinet door and seated herself at the table in the center of the room, arms crossed.

"I merely thought I would make sure you wanted my assistance this time," was the cool reply, the scarcest drop of humor detectable in his voice. He laid bread on the counter and began spreading peanut butter on a slice.

"Does that mean you're offerin' it?" Rogue asked suspiciously.

"I admit that peanut butter and jelly is not the most sophisticated of meals," he informed her, moving on to the jelly "but at the moment it is the limit of my cooking abilities."

"So y'all just live on sandwiches?" she wanted to know. "That's pretty sad, even for men."

"Frankly I do not know what John lives on, and I do not know that I want to." The sandwiches were completed, and he set the plates on the table before turning back to the fridge to get beverages. "However, when Remy was here he was often willing to share his meals."

"Ah would not touch anythin' that Swamp Rat cooked with a nine and a half foot pole," she said, taking a bite out of her peanut butter and jelly.

"He is not the likeliest of cooks," Piotr admitted as he did the same, but after swallowing continued "but I would not underestimate him."

"Well, he could hardly be as bad as Kitty."

"You do not like him."

"That's none o' your business, but since ya must know, let's just say he's not exactly mah favorite person in the world."

"Why?"

"Ah said that's none o' your business," was Rogue's sharp reply. She stood up, suddenly angry. "Let's get one thing straight, 'Colossus.' Ah don't like you, and Ah don't want ta be here. But since Ah am, you'd darn well better learn ta respect mah privacy." She took a few angry steps towards the doorway before throwing over her shoulder, "And next time yah wonder why a gal doesn't like somebody, yah might want to consider whether or not he's _kidnapped_ her in recent memory."

With that she was gone, leaving Piotr staring at her empty plate. He smiled ever so slightly; she had taken the sandwich with her.


	8. A Meeting of Minds

Disclaimer: I no more own these mutants than any person could own "mutant" X-5 452. In other words, I could try, but I would get my ass kicked halfway to Pluto.

A/N: So it's a short chapter. My apologies. There was not much material that needed to be put in it, but the material that was is exceedingly important. So with any luck it all evens out in the end. At least I'm updating, right?

Chapter 7:

A Meeting of Minds

Things were not good at the mansion, to say the least. Rogue was gone, the students were in a state of chaos (well, more so than usual), and now Bobby was telling them that Magneto was to blame despite the truce the two teams had agreed to. Kurt had a sneaking suspicion that the truce would not be in effect for much longer.

This was not something he could make much light of, despite his affinity for jokes. There was no telling why she had been taken, nor what they were going to do to her now that she was in the possession of the bad guys. Of course they _said_ that they would give Rogue back in return for Gambit, but he didn't believe one word of it. That was what they wanted them to think, wasn't it?

The blue mutant knew that he shouldn't be so suspicious all the time, but he couldn't help it. Certainly he was unerringly loyal to his friends, but, probably as a result of his genetically induced appearance, his trust had to be earned. And honestly, was he _supposed_ to trust the people that had attacked him, his teammates, and humanity time and time again? He had a feeling that the answer to that question was no, and no matter what anyone else said, he was sticking by that.

Nightcrawler fidgeted where he sat on the couch. He simply could not concentrate on the movie he was watching with several others of the Xavier students; the problem with Rogue was too persistent. He wondered how they could be so easily distracted, but then again, none of the younger teens had ever been too close to his foster sister, and all of them had such unerring faith in the powers of the X-men to the point that there was no doubt in their minds that Rogue would eventually be found. It had been like this that time that Gambit had kidnapped her too; everyone scared, but only the older X-men truly worried for the safety of the girl. The situation was a little bit switched around now, but attitudes were much the same as they had been before.

He took a moment to reminisce about last time. He had not been comfortable with Gambit in the mansion, but strangely enough the man seemed to have made a sort of peace with the girl, albeit stiff and not completely trusting. He wondered whether it was merely coincidence whether the Acolyte had been there so recently before she had been taken, and was not completely convinced that it wasn't. And on that train of thought, was it just him, or did that girl make too much of a habit of getting kidnapped? Of course, she had been working overtime with Logan to learn self-defense, and he had seen a vast amount of improvement in her, but apparently it had not been enough. Nevertheless he pitied the poor Acolyte Magneto had chosen for the job; they must have had their work cut out for them.

The capricious image of Rogue giving her captors hell was all too fleeting, and he soon found himself worrying again. One more attempt to get comfortable (much to the protest of those with whom he was sharing the couch) and he had had it. If there was one thing he could not stand, it was sitting around doing nothing. He had rallied for some plan of action the minute he had heard the message Pyro had passed on, but had been instructed to take some time to cool off and not be so rash. Well, he had taken plenty of time, and this round he would be as rational as humanly (or mutantly) possible. And surely someone else had to agree with him, support him. This time the Professor could not possibly refuse to do something; clearly he could not deny the fact that Rogue could very well be in danger.

Thoughts of victory filling his head, Kurt bamfed off the couch and in front of the door to Xavier's office. The sound of heated voices reached his ears, and he smiled; he had been correct in assuming that there would be others that felt the same way as he did. Even as he raised his fist to knock on the door, the Professor's weary voice filled his head.

_Come in, Mister Wagner_. Used to this sort of greeting by now, said Mister Wagner opened the door without missing a beat. The sight that met his eyes was reassuring: Scott, Jean, and Kitty seemed all to be putting in their opinions as to what should be done about the issue at hand.

"So zhe gang's all here already, zhen," he stated with a smirk as he entered the well-furnished room. "Vhy didn't you let me know you vere having a party?"

"We, like, would have if we'd known there was gonna be one," Kitty responded. "We all just, like, showed up on our own."

"I suppose that you are going to suggest we do something for Rogue as well?" the Professor inquired, hardly seeming to need an answer. It did not take a telepath to know the reason that he was there.

"Professor, ve can't just leave her zhere!" Kurt exclaimed somewhat defensively. "Who knows vhat could be happening to her vhile ve're just standing around doing noszhing?"

"This is all my fault!" Jean cried, sinking to a chair dejectedly and covering her face with her hands. "If I had just let Gambit fight his own battles, Rogue wouldn't be in this mess."

"Jean, no one blames you," Scott comforted, sitting on the arm of the chair and putting an his own arm around her. Charles seemed content to wait out the storm until the waters were calmer. "You had no way of knowing that Magneto would react like this."

"You could hardly, like, leave him to die," Kitty pointed out.

"I know, but I somehow feel that if I'd done things differently…" Jean trailed off.

Kurt was usually sympathetic when people were upset, but right now Jean's guilt was nothing in comparison to the problem of getting his sister back. This being the case, he couldn't help but put it bluntly: "Jah, Gambit vould be dead, and you vould be feeling guilty about zhat instead."

"Plus, Rogue would be, like, totally furious," Shadowcat put in, and in response to the curious looks elicited from the others in the room, explained "She might pretend to, like, hate his guts, but she's like totally happier around him than most people here."

"You can't be serious!" Scott exclaimed, taken aback. "She can't possibly like _him_, of all people."

"Zhat's not zhe point," Kurt snapped, irritated at both Scott's bigotry and the deviation from the real crisis. "Zhe point is, Rogue's been kidnapped!"

"You're right," Jean sniffled, wiping her eyes and straightening back up. "I'm being silly. We need to concentrate on getting her back."

"Professor, there has to be something we can do," Scott agreed, standing once more.

"And what would you suggest?" Xavier entered the fray once more, playing the part of serene and wizened mentor with ease.

"Ve can take her by force! Zhey von't be expecting us to actually go zhere and get her," was the solution of the teleporting mutant.

"Kurt, you know that is only to be our last resort," the bald man chastised. "Not only do I not approve of violence unless when it is absolutely necessary, but we such a siege would be much too dangerous. We do not know enough about the Acolyte base, and I do not wish to put any of you in harm's way; you could very easily be injured, captured, or even killed. No, that is out of the question."

"We could try giving them what they want," Scott grumbled, and received glares from his three peers as well as a severe look from his teacher.

"How can you say that, Scott?" Jean demanded.

"Yeah, that's like totally not cool," Kitty added.

"Well, think about it." Scott was willing to defend his idea. "Gambit's more than able to defend himself, and we don't even know why he was trying to get away from Magneto in the first place. He probably got himself into trouble and doesn't want to face the consequences."

"I will have you know, Scott, that I know precisely why Remy does not wish to return to Magnus, and I will not permit him to be simply handed over." The Professor's voice was more stern than it had been whilst scolding Kurt, if that was possible. "If he wishes to give himself in exchange for Rogue, even knowing the full consequences of his actions, I will not stop him. However, unless that is the case, Magnus will find himself quite out of luck."

"Then what're we going to do?" Kitty demanded, hands on her hips and glaring defiantly at the man behind the desk. "There's no way I'm going to sit back and relax while one of my best friends is being held captive."

"Well, Kathryn," the good professor began, somewhat taken aback at the lack of "likes" in the valley girl's statement, "For the moment, there is little that any of us can do. I intend to contact Magnus and see if we can't work out some sort of deal, and if we can't, we can go from there."

"If you're going to let Gambit make zhe decision, shouldn't ve at least let him know zhat he has a decision to make?" Kurt inquired, inwardly fuming but knowing there was no use in resisting Xavier's decisions; what the Professor said, went. His was a last ditch effort to get some minute amount of input into Rogue's rescue.

"Quite true, Kurt. As soon as I locate him, I will send a team to inform him of the circumstances," the debilitated man consented. "Does that satisfy you?"

"No, but if zhat's all ve're going to get ve'll make do," was Kurt's grudging reply, which was seconded in kind by his fellow instigators.

"Very well then," Charles pronounced with astonishing patience. "I suppose you will be wanting me to commence my search for him as soon as possible, so if you will kindly leave, I will begin immediately."

The teens filed out into the hallway, slightly dejected at the one small concession that they had been given but each still uttering a sullen "thank you" in the Professor's general direction. As soon as the door was closed Scott hit the wall beside it with closed fists.

"We should be doing something, not waiting around to find out that what's happening to her," he told the ground, forehead braced on the wall between his fists, the rage in his voice barely suppressed to a volume low enough that Xavier wouldn't hear.

"But, like, there's nothing we can do," Kitty pointed out. "I mean, the Professor totally vetoed every idea we had."

"Maybe ve should find Gambit ourselves," Kurt suggested only half seriously, beginning to walk away from the great wooden door so that their conversation wouldn't be overheard. The others followed in an unspoken agreement. "Zhat is, if he's not vone of zhem."

"What do you mean, one of them?" Jean asked, eyes narrowed.

"Think about it, Jean," her boyfriend implored, picking up quickly on Kurt's line of thinking. "Why would he leave Magneto so suddenly?"

"And vhy vould Rogue disappear so soon after he left?" the teleporter added, grateful for the support of his fellow male. "It vas a trick to make us szhink ve could trust him, and zhe moment ve veren't looking, bam! He dove in for zhe kill."

"I can't believe this!" Jean exclaimed in agitation. "Is it honestly that hard for you to trust someone? You weren't there when he was being attacked--that was not an act! Or have you forgotten that _I_ was the one that brought him back here? Besides, aren't Magneto's conditions that Gambit be returned?"

"Yeah, like, seriously, grow up. You guys did, like, the exact same thing to Lance, and he was like completely innocent," Kitty pointed out, her sweet face darkened by a disgusted frown. She flung open the door to her room and walked in, having reached somewhere they could finish their conversation without the danger of being overheard. "Rogue trusted Gambit, and that's like more than enough for me."

"Alright, fine, but zhat still doesn't solve our problem," Kurt said quickly before the situation could escalate. He still wasn't entirely convinced that the man wasn't guilty, but he was willing to allow the miniscule possibility that he wasn't, and there were more important things to worry about at the moment than a small difference in opinion. "How are ve going to get her back?"

"We've just been through this; there's nothing we—" Jean stopped short of finishing her statement, eyes widening with an idea. "Wait a minute—maybe…" Again she left the idea unfinished, this time looking doubtful. "Look, it probably wouldn't work, but I think I might be able to contact her. Rogue, I mean."

"What about the barriers?" Scott wanted to know. "I thought Magneto had some sort of protective barrier that kept the Professor's mind out."

"I thought that was, like, just his helmet," was Shadowcat's input. "I, like, can't see why else he'd wear that totally gross thing."

"But he can't vear it all zhe time," Kurt countered, mind racing with the possibilities of Jean's idea, but unwilling to get his hopes up. "Zhere vould have to be vone around his base or someszhing."

"But… if it is, it might have been constructed with the Professor in mind," the redhead said, thinking aloud. "If it was, then they'll be expecting a much more powerful mutant. I might be able to sneak in through the cracks that the Professor wouldn't fit through."

Kurt thought that this description made the Professor sound like he was some immensely fat old man, but he could see what the older girl was getting at. "Zhen vhat are you vaiting for? Try it, already!"

"Hold on a second," she replied in irritation at his impatience. She shifted into a more comfortable position on the bed that Rogue had once laid claim to. She crossed her legs and laid her fingertips at her temples. "This might take awhile, and I need you need to be quiet so you don't break my concentration."

"Yes ma'am," Scott saluted with a wry smile, and they all settled in for a long wait.

It seemed like an age had passed before Jean began to stir from her trance. A very long, very boring age. Kurt had gotten restless before the first five minutes had passed, but eventually he had resigned himself to waiting. In fact, he had very nearly been asleep when Kitty poked him to get his attention. Startled, he sat up abruptly.

"Vhat? Vhat happened?" he demanded, not so much of Jean than of Kitty, the one that had surprised him into consciousness. The others, however, did not realize that this was the case as they were busy barraging the telepath for news of what had transpired.

"Yeah, did you, like, get through?"

"Could you talk to Rogue?"

They took Jean's exhausted nod as an invitation to ask more questions.

"Is she alright?"

"Vhat did she say?"

"Where is she?"

"Who took her?"

"Would you be quiet for a minute?" demanded the hero (or rather, heroine) of the hour. "I'm tired, and I need time to figure out what just happened myself."

Her companions were shocked into silence, but the air of the room was filled with eager anticipation of the explanation that would undoubtedly follow shortly. Kurt fidgeted with impatience. He had just spent an hour being quiet, and that had been more than enough for him at least. Finally (after five minutes) he could take the suspense no longer.

"So?" he erupted into words, unable to restrain his curiosity. "Vhat happened?"

Jean sighed and shot him a glare that instantly made him regret his outburst, but seemed to be ready to talk.

"She seemed alright. At least, she was her usual self," the young woman told them with an ironic smile. It was common knowledge that Rogue was not Jean's biggest fan, although to speak of the topic was nearly taboo. "She's at Magneto's base alright, but something weird's going on."

"Weird? Weird how?" Scott wanted to know, a mix of concern and curiosity dancing across his face.

"Scott…She doesn't want to be rescued."


	9. Ya Gotta Keep 'em Separated!

Disclaimer: X-men is not mine, nor will it be until I make a fortune as a concert clarinetist and buy out one universe or another. I only own a copy of the song that inspired the chapter title.

A/N: Sorry for the change of title, but looking at where this is headed, the name "Trading Spaces" doesn't fit quite as well as I once thought it would. Um... I really have little else to say except: enjoy!

Chapter 8

Ya Gotta Keep 'em Separated!

Rogue was enjoying the novelty of peace, quiet and privacy (or at least more of these than the X-mansion offered) when she felt a familiar red-headed presence in her mind.

Her first reaction was puzzlement; weren't Magneto and his crew supposed to be protected from psychic probes? However, the puzzlement soon transitioned into anger as she realized just what the implications of Jean's trying to tap her mind were.

Implication 1: Jean Grey was in her head (or at least trying to get there).

Implication 2: The Professor either didn't sanction or didn't know about this contact.

Implication 3: _Jean Grey was in her head_!

Implication 4: Magneto's psychic defenses weren't all that he promised they were.

Implication 5: JEAN GREY WAS IN HER HEAD!

These were all very good reasons for her to get very, very angry. Her only consolation was that because of having to constantly contend with rogue psyches (no pun intended), her mental prowess was quite considerable. Due to this fact, she was more than equipped to deal with psychics when they were trying to get into her brain.

_Jean Grey, you had better have one darned good reason for pokin' around in my mind, or Ah'm gonna throw you outta it so hard your _body _gets whiplash_, she projected as loudly as she could clenching her jaw despite the fact that the source of her anger couldn't see it. She could almost feel Jean's mind wince from her volume.

_Rogue! We thought—_the voice that was as annoying in her mind as in real life began, but she cut it off.

_Well, y'all thought wrong,_ she snapped rather nastily. In retrospect, Rogue supposed that she probably should have listened to what her teammate had to say. On the other hand, since when did she care what she should or shouldn't do? Correct answer: almost never. And to be fair, Jean _should_ have left well enough alone and stayed out of her mind. She was only returning the favor.

_Rogue, will you just…_the room around Rogue began to fade away midway through Jean's statement. "…listen to me for a minute?"

A pang of panic coursed its way through her body as she found herself in a strange landscape with an eternity of empty space stretching across her vision. There were strange forms and planets suspended in the emptiness, and standing before her perfectly nonchalantly was a now-visible Jean.

What else was she supposed to do? She had found herself in a strange place that frankly scared her spitless. She fell back on her catch-all emotion for support: anger.

"What the heck did you do to me?" she demanded, upset that anyone would have the nerve to just up and take her to a strange place with no notice whatsoever. She noticed in the midst of gesticulating that she was wearing the grown-up sized version of her favorite childhood outfit and, strangely enough, a much too large trench coat that smelled of spices and cigarettes. It did not help to suppress the shudder that came from the eeriness of the place in which she found herself, though. "And why on earth am Ah wearin' this?"

"Calm down; we're just in the astral plane," was the answer, and Rogue despised the way it was stated as though coming here was an everyday occurrence and there was nothing to be remotely worried about. She directed one of her patented looks at Jean, and luckily enough the older girl got the message and elaborated. "In a nutshell, it's the dimension that our minds operate in, and it was the only way I could talk to you face to face."

"That doesn't explain why Ah'm wearin' this," Rogue prompted, refusing to concede the point out of principle. Jean sighed.

"When you're in the astral plane, your mind tends to put you in a form that you find reassuring. But does that even matter?" The look on the psychic's face was so concerned and earnest that Rogue almost felt herself sympathizing with her. Almost. " Rogue, Magneto's got you captive! We have to find a way to break you out!"

"Y'all don't _have_ to do anythin'," she drawled, only briefly pausing to wonder why on earth her subconscious would consider her wearing of Gambit's coat to be comforting. Her anger was now shifting its focus towards her temporary boss. He had said that he had made it clear that she didn't need rescuing—obviously, he had lied, as was made apparent by the look of consternation that Jean was wearing. Her own face softened; she couldn't get mad at the girl for trying to get her out of what she thought was a bad situation, and she was obviously anxious about her safety. "Ah've got the situation under control, Jean," she said more gently. "Really, Ah do. Ah appreciate your concern, but things are…complicated. Ah have to stay here for a little if Ah want to fix anythin'."

"What do you mean, 'complicated'?" It seemed that it was now Jean's turn to get upset. "If he's blackmailing you, or, or, threatening you, we can help—"

"Ah don't _need_ help!" Rogue snapped more harshly than she had intended. She forced herself to take a few calming breaths before continuing. "Ah said Ah had it under control, and Ah meant it. It'd prob'ly be best if y'all just let me handle it myself."

"But—"

"Look, if Ah need help, Ah know who ta call." She was beginning to get frustrated with Jean's persistency, and the promise of anger soon to come gave a hard edge to her words. It was all she could do not to snap, and she knew that a few months ago she wouldn't have been able to restrain herself even this much. "For now, would ya just take me back to my body already?"

Jean seemed to be struggling with herself for a moment, then sighed once more in a resigned fashion. "Fine…just…can I at least check in on you once in a while? If anything goes wrong, I want to know about it so we can get you out of there."

"Okay, Ah'll let ya know—but only once a week, ya hear me? Ah don't need to be distracted in the middle of somethin' important," Rogue conceded, throwing up her hands in defeat but mentally rejoicing the fact that the older teen was finally beginning to respect her decisions and ability to take care of herself.

"We're worried about you Rogue," Jean told her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "As long as you know what you're getting yourself into, I'm not going to argue, but be careful, all right?"

"All right already! Ah get the point," the Southerner exclaimed, impatient to get back to her own body. "Now can we cut it with the mushy stuff? Ah think someone back at Acolyte Central might notice if Ah'm sittin' there in a trance all day."

"Okay… This might feel a little weird," Jean warned, and again, abruptly, the world around her faded away, and she could hear the last lingering image of Jean say "Be careful," before that too turned to nothing.

Rogue found herself stunningly back in her own body, and realized that she was still lying languidly on the bed that she had been provided, just as she had been when she had been pulled into the astral plane. It took a while to adjust to the physical world, and she had a feeling that she would not be in the best of moods for the rest of the day. The emotions and psyches inside her warred with one another as what she had just done began to sink in.

What on earth had she been doing? She had had a chance to get out of the disconcerting grip that Magneto, one of her sworn enemies, held over her, and yet she had turned it down. Why on earth would she do something as foolish as that? The question played itself over and over in her mind, and she had no satisfactory answer. In fact, in retrospect things probably would have worked themselves out just fine if she had simply accepted the help that Jean was offering.

Rogue screamed into a convenient pillow in frustration with herself. It made absolutely no sense whatsoever. There were only two good reasons that she could think of. The first of these was that if she stayed with Magneto for a while longer, she could probably learn a few things about this mysterious villain that Buckethead claimed was a threat to mutant-kind. The second of these was something that she would probably never admit to anyone except in the most dire of circumstances, and that was that she simply didn't want her teammates—her friends—to get hurt in an unnecessary rescue attempt.

Of course, there was always the fact that her pride refused to let her go back on the agreement that she would help Mr. Lensherr until such a time as Remy returned or the unknown threat had been vanquished. That, however, she did not consider to be a good reason in the slightest, so it really didn't count.

Rogue sat up abruptly as she thought of something else. What would the rest of the X-men think if they knew that she was willingly assisting Magneto? Of course, Jean only knew that she had some sort of business to take care of with him, but it was only a matter of time before they found out what she was really doing there. She had worked so hard to gain their trust, and now she was going to just throw away what little she had earned! With a sick feeling in her stomach she rose and stalked out of the closet that the Acolytes called a bedroom. She needed something—anything—else to think about, because there was nothing that she could accomplish by worrying.

With the vague intention of seeing if there was anything interesting on tv, she found her way into the room that served as a living room for Magneto's groupies. It wasn't very interestingly furnished, but there was a television, a sofa and a few chairs, and a relatively small bookshelf. She supposed that she would have to see about getting a cd player and maybe access to a computer if she was going to stay there for any amount of time, but for now she would make do until such a time as she returned to the X-mansion. For now, however, there was a very hyperactive pyromaniac with whom she would have to compete for control over the remote. This proved a feat more difficult that it sounded.

"The show is idiotic!" she exclaimed for what seemed to be the millionth time, gesturing at the screen upon which a certain yellow sponge capered about. "It's no wonder your IQ is nonexistent, if you watch this pointless trash."

"I'll have you know I find it highly educational," Pyro countered stubbornly, "And I was heah first, so you'ah gonna hafta wait yoah turn."

"Ah wouldn't have a problem with 'waitin' my turn' it if my turn happened _before_ Dark Angel was completely over!" Rogue returned, having realized early on in the argument that _her _favorite show was to be playing at that time.

It went like this for quite some time, both parties refusing to budge or compromise, and would have continued for who knew how long had they not been summoned into the presence of the great Lord Buckethead himself.

It was apparent that Magneto had the same general opinion of his "employees'" IQ's as Rogue had of John's, she considered in retrospect. Despite the fact that she had completely comprehended what he had needed to say in the first few minutes of the debriefing, he had continued to ramble on about the same points for quite some time. Perhaps the time had simply seemed longer because she was used to quick, concise instructions as given by the Professor rather than the long, drawn out ones provided by the man's former friend, but it was as if she were in math class all over again. The plus side was that she had developed a talent for tuning the droning of instructors out, so she had completely processed what she needed to do by the time that Magneto's ramblings were through.

So now she was sitting outside the fence of a high-security lab and calling herself ten kinds of idiot for not finding out more information on this supposed threat before agreeing to sign on with the master of metal.

"Remember, you're just the diversion, so you get their attention, wait 'til we're through, then skedaddle," Rogue instructed Pyro, who was looking particularly psychotic in his uniform (Rogue's own was dark green with strategically placed splashes of yellow here and there as well as yellow gloves, and while she didn't particularly disapprove she wasn't entirely in favor of it either). It was just her luck, she supposed, that she had to work with St. John for this particular assignment, but at least she had the reassurance of having Piotr as her backup; if there was one thing she could say about Colossus, it was that he was dependable.

"Be careful what you burn," the subject of her thoughts cautioned, and it was hard to tell if he was being completely serious or not. "Things might explode."

"But I like makin' things explode!" Pyro whined, looking horribly pathetic as he did so. Piotr seemed unaffected, however, and fixed the Aussie with a stern look like a parent might give a misbehaving child (an analogy that was more than a little amusing once it occurred to Rogue). John sighed in defeat. "All right Petey, you win. No makin' things go boom." He began to grumble under his breath, and Rogue was somewhat relieved that she couldn't make out what he was saying.

"So we all know what we're doin' then?" she asked, feeling strangely like Scott for a moment and not knowing whether to be horrified or entertained by this. She filed this away for future contemplation as the two men nodded, both surprisingly equally solemn. "Then what're we waitin' for? Let's get this show on the road."

With that she began making her way through the decorative greenery that vaguely camouflaged the tall fence and the vicious barbed wire that topped it. She wondered why people in such facilities were idiotic enough to leave such useful camouflage for would-be thieves or trouble-makers as well, but supposed that they thought that their fence was more than enough defense. She supposed that she shouldn't complain, considering that their naiveté only helped her, but the level of stupidity made her shake her head in disdain. If only they knew…

She crouched balanced on her heels in between two convenient bushes as she waited for her signal. Her heart began to beat faster in anticipation, adrenaline speeding through her blood. What was taking so long? Was something wrong?

Then a large jet of flame appeared at the edge of her vision, and she was in motion before she even realized it.

She climbed the fence without a hitch; the wire links that formed it provided the most convenient hand- and foot-holds. The barbed wire at the top proved to be no problem either; how many times had a Danger Room scenario involved getting past a fence just like this? She grabbed one of the smooth metal posts that kept the defense mechanism in place and used it to help swing herself over the top. She landed gracefully in the grass on the other side, although the strain of the impact in her legs told her otherwise.

Having safely maneuvered the fence, she began to dash across the expanse between the fence and the facility, praying that by some miracle no one would notice her doing so. Of course, how often was she that lucky?

"You there! Stop!" The voice was male and angry, and Rogue wondered for a moment who in the world stopped when they were commanded to by an angry male voice before halting in her tracks and standing in the very picture of impatience with one hand on her hip as the man caught up to her.

"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded, panting, as soon as he came close enough for her to hear. He was a young man and obviously not security; he was wearing extremely formal clothes and carrying a briefcase, so she was willing to bet that he was an employee doing what he thought was his civic duty by apprehending a suspicious character. Poor idiot.

"What does it look like Ah'm doin'? Ah'm tryin' ta make sure Ah'm not late ta work," she informed him as if it were the most obvious thing in the world and he was a dunce for not realizing it. He looked rather taken aback at this turn of events.

"But…You…" he stammered, his eyes wide in bewilderment. Finally he was able to put his thoughts together into a coherent statement. "But then what were you doing over there?" He gestured towards the far side of the lawn from which she had come.

Rogue had to think fast for some plausible excuse, but she prided herself on her skills in acting and improvisation. Discreetly she pulled off the glove on her right hand and held it up. "Ah dropped my glove," she told him with as much patience in her voice as she could muster, "and the wind blew it away. Ah couldn't very well leave it there, now could Ah?"

"Um…no…Sorry," the man apologized, looking quite abashed at having leaped to all the right conclusions. He extended his hand with a sheepish smile. "I'm—" he began, but was unable to finish as Rogue chose that moment to take the proffered hand.

"Unconscious, it looks like," she told him as he buckled. She fought the onslaught of foreign memories and emotions that always came when she used her powers and caught him before he hit the ground. She laid him gently on the grass and set off again with a purpose. She felt slightly guilty for taking advantage of the man's innocence—he had seemed to be a decent sort—but there was no helping it; she had to have an idea of where she was going, and the his memories has provided just that. Besides, she couldn't have any witnesses to this job; when he woke up, he would probably think that she was just a dream or wouldn't even remember her. In any case, it wasn't as though she had done any permanent damage. He probably needed a break anyway.

With the knowledge of the entrance codes now in her mind, getting inside the laboratory was a piece of cake. Once in, she had only to act natural and trust that Piotr had gotten the security cameras offline; if he hadn't there was nothing she could do about it anyway.

It was amazing what a look of confidence could do for you, she contemplated as she walked down the halls with that aura of someone who was very busy and had to get where they were going as quickly as possible or there would be hell to pay. She was hiding in plain sight; none of the employees she passed so much as gave her a second glance. It was invigorating, and a second rush of adrenaline pumped through her at the feeling of power she got out of fooling so many people at once.

She stopped in front of an unobtrusive door and doubtfully tried the handle. As she had suspected it would be, it was locked. She sighed and rolled her eyes at the inconvenience and at the stupidity of the people that had designed the security. Any amateur thief could pick the kind of lock that the door had been supplied with, and although she didn't make a habit of stealing things, picking locks was a talent that had come in handy more than a few times in the past.

As soon as the door handle budged, she slipped into the room and shut the door behind her. She found herself in a room full of shelves, each one packed with files upon files of who knew what kind of scientific jargon. She leaned against the door as she steeled herself for the task at hand.

"This," she groaned, "is gonna take a while."

She was closing in on the last file that Magneto had claimed that he needed when she heard the door to the archive open. She froze in place, heart picking up speed. Out in the hallways, she was pleasantly anonymous and as such had gone unapprehended. In here, whoever came in would more likely than not that she did not belong.

"Rogue!" The urgent hiss caused relief to wash over her, although it was only fleeting as she realized that something must have gone wrong.

"Yeah, Ah'm in here," she replied, peeking around the shelf at a harried-looking Colossus. "What's goin' on?"

"Someone triggered an alarm," he told her, glancing anxiously at the door as though he expected someone to come bursting in at any moment. "We have to leave."

"Hold onto your pants, Tin Man," she told him, scanning the shelves before her with renewed fervor. "Ah almost—got it. All right, _now_ we can move." She added the last file to the stack clutched under her arm, and made her way towards the large Russian.

"What kind o' resistance are we lookin' at?" she asked him, her hand paused on the door handle.

"Security guards," was the short response. "Armed."

"My favorite," she muttered before adding more loudly, "Ah hope you're up for a little fun, big guy, 'cause Ah think we're gonna hafta come out and play."

"Always." She didn't look up at Piotr, but she could almost hear the glint of humor in his eyes. She took a deep breath and flung open the door.

Rogue didn't know what she had been expecting, but a small, watery eyed man in glasses was not it. "Uh…excuse us," she told the shocked man, and sidled past him despite the fact that he had to move aside anyway for Piotr to get through. The door shut with a dull thud, and Rogue almost laughed with relief.

That was, of course, until she heard for the second time that day, "You there! Stop!"

She exchanged a glance with Colossus, and as one unit they bolted down the hallway.

There were about three security guards in pursuit, and just as Piotr had promised, they were armed. Despite the fact that the rational part of her brain told her that they wouldn't shoot indoors with so many innocent bystanders present, she kept expecting to feel a bullet between her retreating shoulder blades. If there was one thing she hated, it was guns; they were so cowardly and dishonest. She would take a good-old-fashioned hand-to-hand fight any day. However, the only choice she had now was to run, so she focused all of her attention on that one aspect of her life and thanked whatever deity was listening for all of the training sessions with Logan that had built her endurance and speed.

It was just as they grew to be within sight of the front doors when the first of the guards caught up to them. He was greeted by a simultaneous kick to the stomach and punch to the face, each courtesy of a different mutant. Needless to say he went down without much of a fuss, but the brief pause in their flight had cost them precious time, and now the other guards had grown closer still. Additionally, the lobby was now in lockdown mode; the heavy metal doors were mechanically locked and secured, and any employees were either fleeing the battle zone or cowering in fear. Two more guards that had been standing watch at the entrance were now making their way over to the pair of them.

Instinct took over her mind, and she acted on it. She thrust the folders she had picked up at her partner in crime. "You take these and get Pyro ready ta go; Ah'll take care o' these pushovers."

"But you—" Colossus began, and under any other circumstances Rogue would have been surprised at him being argumentative. However, on this occasion it simply proved an irritation.

"No buts! Just do it!" she snapped, and turned to face the next guard to catch up with them. She could sense the big mutant hesitate as she engaged her opposition, but even as she blocked the first punch he took off, not even pausing at the doors but barreling right through them in what she could only hope was is transformed state.

But there was no time to think as she fought, and once more she let instinct govern her decisions. Her kicks and punches and blocks were all second nature to her by now. She managed to take one woman down by a head butt to her face so hard that Rogue had felt the woman's nose break, and another adversary was momentarily taken out of commission by a well directed knee to the groin. At one point her two remaining opponents grabbed hold of her arms from behind, but she elbowed one in the stomach and kicked the other's knee in a direction it was not meant to go, and she managed to pull free. She could hear the one she had elbowed begin to retch in the background as she took the opportunity to dart towards the hole in the doors that her temporary teammate had made.

It was when she was a little less than a third of the way across the lawn when the long-expected gunfire began to come. The first bullet hit the dirt disconcertingly close to her, sending up a spray of turf that left her coughing and choking. The Southerner kept running, however, and if anything picked up her speed as she began to maneuver her path into unpredictable zigzags that would make her a more difficult target. A far removed portion of her brain marveled at the number of times she had been shot at and/or attacked before her seventeenth birthday. Maybe it was a talent.

Only one bullet grazed her before she passed out of the guns' range, but she ignored the trail of fire in her arm that it had left behind as she nimbly scaled over the barrier. She slowed a little as she passed through the thin screen foliage that offered her a little protection. By the time she reached the road she had slowed to a walk and the trial she had put her body through was beginning to take its toll. She could hear sirens in the distance, but the only vehicle on the street was a sleek black car approaching at such a high speed that she was surprised that it managed to stop in front of her. She wondered about the wisdom of letting Pyro drive, but pushed her misgivings to the back of her mind.

She opened the door to the backseat and collapsed inside, panting. The automobile was moving almost before she closed the door, and she hastily clicked her safety belt into place.

She sighed with relief and leaned back into the upholstered seat.

"Mission accomplished."


	10. Bonus: How to Fix Cabin Fever

A/N: Considering your amazing patience with me for taking so long to update, I have decided to include this bonus chapter. It has really very little to do with the plot, but I sat down to write Chapter 8 and this came out instead, and it was too fun not to post once I had the _real_ Chapter 8 up. Enjoy!

This is dedicated to Tigerlilly 1234 because she's been begging for a certain element for quite some time now, and a healthy portion of it is served up in here.

Bonus Chapter:

How to fix Cabin Fever

There was one distinct advantage to living at Acolyte central, Rogue soon discovered, and that was this: no school. She had half expected Magneto to force her go, to what purpose she knew not, but as Monday had come and gone with no classes, she realized that it would somewhat defeat the purpose of a ransom if her friends were to see her five days out of seven. So while she did not quite relish living under the same roof with Pyro, Sabertooth, and Magneto, she was going to make the most of every moment she did not have to be in that infernal building.

She had caught on quickly to the routine there. Just as she had been warned, every morning began with a brutally long training session. At least she was used to such a workout this early in the morning, she reminded herself as she donned a pair of jeans, having just come out of the shower. And after all, there was no Wolverine to oversee the proceedings, and no Danger Room to complicate matters. No, it was your run-of-the-mill workout room, with weights and stationary bikes and all manner of exercise equipment. If they really wanted to spice things up, there was a large room that was eerily reminiscent of the school gymnasium that was equipped with robots for them to combat if they so chose, but mostly they practiced against each other.

The first time this had happened, she had been paired off against St. John, and had not been very happy about it. The fire-obsessed young man had thought to go easy on her, saying that she was just a girl and a little one at that. She had finally gotten tired of simply blocking his attempts to hit her and had kicked him in the stomach, flipped him, and pinned him to the ground in one fluid motion.

"Ah can kick the crap outta you without even _thinkin'_ about usin' my powers, so Ah suggest that y'all start takin' me seriously or else you'll be in a world of hurt," she had

informed him. At his terrified yet enthusiastic nod, she stood from her comfortable seat in the middle of his back and retreated a few yards. "Now let's try this again, shall we? The _right_ way this time."

After that, sparring was a much more challenging exercise than she had banked on, but as the days progressed she was surprised to notice her improvement, which had never been so fast while under the eye of Wolverine. Perhaps it was the variety of partners that helped, and perhaps it was the fact that about the only thing of interest to do around the base was utilize the exercise room; whatever the case, a day less than a week was enough to see her managing to hold her own against the intimidating (although not as bloodthirsty as she had feared) Sabertooth, even if it was a close thing, and she had never come close to winning a match against him.

At first she had wondered at the Acolytes' abilities if this was all the practice they got. When addressed with the question, Piotr had simply given a shrug of his big shoulders.

"Perhaps it is because we get so much field experience," he had suggested. "Your simulations probably are not the same as the real thing."

"Y'all just keep tellin' yourselves that," she had informed him, and left it at that, judging the subject not worth the trouble of pursuing.

Piotr had to be the only tolerable person in that place. He was reserved and polite, and although that wasn't quite her thing, she had to admit that in comparison with the people she usually lived with, it was an extremely pleasant change of pace. It made her wonder how exactly he had ended up on a team of bad guys; it seemed to her that he didn't quite seem the type that would be bent on the destruction of humanity, or even willingly encourage it. It was something that she pondered at great lengths, and as of yet had not come up with a suitable explanation. Who knew, though? There was never any telling with the quiet ones; it was entirely possible that he had a genocidal streak buried deep beneath those large bones of his.

Whatever the case was, he was at least someone she could go to when any of the other crazies crossed too far over the line of her tolerance. He took her flares of temper in stride, and strangely enough she could never be angry too long when she was in his presence. She never felt obliged to talk or keep up any pretenses around him; there were times when they would just both sit and read and feel perfectly comfortable. It disturbed her somewhat how at ease she felt when she was with him; she wasn't nearly half so familiar with most of the X-men, and he was the enemy! Even more frightening was that at times she felt the prickly exterior that she showed everyone else begin to slip, her first line of defense against the betrayal and hurt that she had been faced with so many times before. The fact that anyone could do this to her scared her, and she made doubly sure that she never revealed anything about herself that was too personal. But there was just something calming about his air, to the extent that sometimes she wondered if there wasn't more to his power than met the eye.

There was generally a lot of free time after training in which they could share company. On occasion any combination of the official Acolytes would be called out to work, although the honorary member rarely went on duty. She wondered if this was because she was supposed to get used to working with the others, because she had yet to gain Magneto's trust (she doubted that this was the case; it was a given that neither would completely trust the other no matter what happened), or because she just wasn't needed for most of their operations. Whatever the case, she often enjoyed the privacy and time alone that she had never received at the mansion, and this was greatly appreciated.

She checked her appearance in a mirror that was slightly blurry from the remnants of shower stream. Black gloves, check. Dark jeans, check. Yellow tank-top, check. Dark green zip-up sweatshirt, check. It creeped her out somewhat that Magneto had known what size of clothing to supply her with, and she didn't want to know how he had discovered that information. She shuddered slightly at the thought.

Sadly she did not have any make-up, but she was making do without. The thing that she was having the most difficulty with was the lack of dark clothing in the street clothes that she had been given; she had nearly broken out in a rash at the thought of wearing any of the numerous light pink shirts that were in her drawer. It was as though somehow she had been presented with Kitty's wardrobe instead of her own, and she had to wonder once more where on earth Magneto had gotten these clothes, and again she resolved that she didn't even want to know. The thought of the quasi-evil man selecting her underwear was enough to make her sick.

She banished that train of thought with a becoming scowl and finger-combed damp auburn-and-white hair. Satisfied that she was somewhat presentable, she stepped out into the hall where Pyro stood waiting to pounce.

"All yours, sugah," she told him sarcastically, and he nearly dove through the open door the moment she stepped out of the way. She smirked. Sharing a bathroom with four men (although that psychotic psychic guy rarely showed his face, and she doubted whether he was actually an Acolyte or just someone whose powers were commandeered every so often) was a bit trying, but nothing in comparison with what they had to deal with at the X-mansion.

Actually, considering all the perks of being with the Acolytes, she could easily see why they had been tempted to cross over to the Dark Side. Not that anything excused someone from targeting innocent people because of how they had been born. She could never forgive that, in mutants or in humans. Magneto had committed certain crimes that were deplorable, repulsive, and unpardonable in her eyes, but being evil certainly had its advantages.

One of these was not mealtime, though. There was no organization whatsoever to the kitchen, whether it came to the dishes (clean and dirty), who would cook what and when, or where the food was put. For the most part she made her own meals, which was exactly what she did as soon as she stepped into the room. Popping two pieces of bread into the toaster, she looked with disgust at the pile of dirty dishes, a few of which seemed to be beginning to mold. The smell was almost enough to make her nauseous, and she soon decided that she could not stand it anymore. The moment the next person stepped into that room, they would be on dish detail, whether they wanted it or not.

Rogue took a seat at the table and buttered her toast lazily. In her opinion, she had already done more than enough for this rag-tag group, and she wasn't lifting another finger until she had some assistance.

"Lord, Ah'm turnin' inta Jean," she muttered to her toast before taking a bite out of it. When she had been with the Brotherhood herself, she had barely given a darn, but in these conditions that were considerably better she had yet to be satisfied. She hadn't realized that she had changed that much.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Sabertooth, who promptly grabbed a jug of milk and began to stalk away. For a moment Rogue seriously debated the wisdom of the vow she had made not ten minutes ago, but she was not one to be daunted by much of anyone. In any case, she had grown ever so slightly better acquainted with Victor Creed during the course of her stay, and felt that she had the right to demand that he help in the kitchen. She took a deep breath and paused for a moment to contemplate what in the world she was getting herself into, then plunged in.

"If y'all are plannin' on just takin' that an' leavin', y'all can think again," she informed him, her eyes raised defiantly. In fact, the feral man did not get angry with her; he seemed more surprised that someone would dare to question him than ready to bite her head off when he stopped in the threshold to the kitchen. He turned slowly to look at her, his expression somewhat taken aback.

"Ah know ya probably think cleanin' doesn't apply ta you, but frankly, someone needs ta do somethin' about these dishes, an' Ah've already done more than my fair share around this place. It's high time that you started helpin' out a little, especially considerin' that you're the one that makes half the mess in the first place. Ah've only been here a week and Ah've probably done more work than you have in all your time here. An' don't you give me any bull about it bein' women's work or somethin' equally barbaric, 'cause Ah don't buy that chauvinistic crud and it's no excuse ta live in a pigsty." Having completed her lecture and the sensation that she was turning into the much-loathed red-haired telepath, she braced herself for whatever retaliation Sabertooth would dish out.

None came. Rogue watched in astonishment as the man grunted, replaced the milk in the refrigerator, and turned towards the counter stacked with dirty dishes. Suddenly and inexplicably afraid of what might happen if she remained in the room, she grabbed her toast and slowly backed out, then dashing to her room the moment Victor was out of sight.

The Southern girl flopped herself on her bed, ready for another day of relaxation and doing…absolutely nothing. Just like she had for countless hours since she had arrived at Magneto's base. It had been a novelty, at first, to live like she had been over the course of the week. No school, no requirements other than that she show up at training sessions and that she complete simple missions every once in a while (although she had only been on two since that first). It had been pure bliss, and every teenaged girl's—heck, any boy's for that matter—dream.

After the completion of her first week at Magneto's base, however, she was growing quite impatient with this lifestyle. None of the others were under the same restrictions as she was; they were free to leave the facility at their pleasure, for the most part. There was only so long a girl could take being virtually grounded, whether or not she had to tolerate school or half a million annoying peers. And she intended to do something about it.

Piotr was reading more intensely than anyone she had ever met when she stopped to lean on the doorframe of his room.

"Alright, tin man, here's the idea," she began, waiting until he looked up from his novel to continue. "If Ah spend one more minute stuck in this cement block, Ah'm gonna go crazy. Ah'm bustin' outta here, and you're comin' with."

"He won't let you go," Colossus informed her, a hint of something (concern? anger? something else?) in his ice-blue eyes. "And when he catches you, he will be angry."

"D'you really think Ah've never snuck out before?" she wanted to know, giving him a look that was meant to let him know he was not very bright if he thought otherwise. "Ah _have_ a plan. An' trust me, it's one that even Lord Buckethead himself can't spoil."

"I have told you: you are not to leave the premise," the aging man told her from behind a desk that reminded Rogue unpleasantly of that of her principal. "You have been provided with everything that you shall require. Your request to leave has been rejected."

"An' _Ah_ told _you_, Ah have _not_ been provided with everythin' Ah require," she insisted, glaring him down with her most ferocious Newbie-intimidating look. She could feel Piotr's eyes on her back, and she knew he was thinking to himself that she should have listened when he told her she would not be permitted to leave. That alone made her determined to succeed. "Ah need to go to the store. Asap."

"Alright then, Rogue, what is it that you need so desperately?" The look he gave her was infuriatingly accommodating, as if he were indulging a very small child.

"That's personal," she snapped, her arms crossed and her uncolored lips clenched in an angry scowl.

"Then I'm afraid that I cannot grant you permission to go," was the placid reply.

Rogue let out a sigh to match her facial expression, informing her temporary boss of exactly how exasperated she was with the whole situation. "Fine! Ah'll tell you, if it's so darned important that you know! Not that it's any of your business, but Ah need pads."

"Pads?" Magneto was obviously confused by this request, and Rogue might have laughed had it not been so embarrassing or crucial to her ruse that she keep the appearance of irritation—which by this point wasn't entirely faked.

"Yeah, you know, sanitary napkins? Or maybe you don't know, considerin' you've apparently never learned the facts of life." Though she was determined not to let the man see through her act, she felt the heat rising to her face and hoped it was construed as a result of her fury rather than a desire to sink into the earth. But she didn't need to go further into her explanation, because it seemed that something had finally clicked in Erik's mind. The sight of Lord Buckethead shocked, taken aback, and although he tried to hide it, embarrassed all at once was a sight that she had a feeling she would never forget.

"Of…of course, go," Magneto managed in an attempt to cover his flusterment with an official tone, and pushed some bills across the desk at her. "Take Colossus with you."

"Thanks," she replied with a hint of sarcasm in her voice, and turned to leave the office. She nearly laughed at Colossus's face as well, which in its wide-eyed shock was nearly as priceless as Magneto's had been. She couldn't help it; as soon as the door to Magneto's office was safely shut, she let loose.

The drug store was the logical first stop, considering that despite the fact that in order to keep Magneto in the dark about her ruse Rogue needed to purchase what she had said she needed to, and that although it had been a convenient excuse she hadn't been lying; feminine napkins were something that Erik Lensherr had not thought to provide her with, and she was going to need them sooner or later.

Piotr looked quite uncomfortable standing there in the midst of all the pink and pastel plastic. She offered to let him browse somewhere more…masculine…while she grabbed what she needed, despite the fact that it took her all of thirty seconds to find it, but he declined, saying that he had strict instructions to keep watch over her for the entirety of the time she was out in public. Rogue had wondered when he had received these instructions, but supposed that he had probably been debriefed far ahead of time about what to do should she ever be allowed access to the outside world. And she had to admit, the sight of big, muscly Colossus in that particular aisle was almost enough to reduce her to uncharacteristic giggles once more.

Of course, then she had to relish being somewhere other than Acolyte Central for as long as possible, so although she did not have much of an affinity for shopping, she had to walk up and down the rows of shelves for quite some time.

She was inspecting with some great disdain one of the new "My Little Ponies" when she heard a familiar voice talking at a speed that only one person she knew could accomplish. She glanced up at Piotr, who had apparently recognized it too, because he had gone rigid and was looking around him with such a stern urgency that he resembled Logan when he scented Sabertooth.

"You must not let her see you," he said, and grabbing her arm dragged her around to the end of the aisle where the shelves would hide them from the view of the front of the store. Rogue wrested her arm free and shot him a sour look.

"Ah know that," she hissed. "Ah am perfectly capable of escapin' notice without bein' dragged around by you. What Ah want to know is, how are we gonna get me outta here with Kitty in full view of the front door?"

"Very carefully," the Russian responded, apparently deep in thought. "Follow me." He crouched and began to make his way towards the opposite side of the store from that in which Shadowcat stood talking to Lance Alvers with great rapidity, making certain that his head did not peek over the tops of the shelves. Rogue followed in a like manner, not out of necessity but because it simply helped to contribute to the mood of stealth. She couldn't help but start humming the Mission: Impossible theme under her breath; the situation, although it was somewhat serious, was too amusing not to do so.

They had made their way to the end of the far aisle and were looking at the cash register that stood between them and the door when a thought suddenly occurred to the Southerner.

"Hey Piotr, just a quick question," she whispered, pulling her head back out of the open. He did the same and glanced at her with an inquiring look. "How the heck am Ah s'posed ta buy these"— she held up her selection from that first aisle they had stopped in—"if Ah can't let Kitty see me?"

The two of them looked blankly at each other for a few moments, both at a loss as to what to do.

"Ah suppose…" she began, "that you could buy them for me while Ah make a break for it."

Piotr was not entirely pleased with this idea, that much was obvious, but as he could not come up with any better suggestions, he finally agreed. This had to have been one of the most amusing days of her life, she reflected as she discreetly watched a bright red Colossus purchase feminine products through the window at the front of the store. From her vantage point, Kitty and her boyfriend were also visible, and the looks that they were giving the Acolyte were making it difficult for her not to start laughing again.

When Piotr finally emerged from the store, he face was still crimson. She gave him a wry smile as he thrust the bag at her without meeting her eyes.

"Ah owe ya one, Piotr. Ah think ya deserve some ice cream," she told him, and began walking in the direction of the nearest shop that would sell that particular commodity. "On me. Well, on Lord Buckethead, really, but what he don't know won't hurt 'im."

This statement elicited a chuckle as Piotr followed after her. On a backward glance she noticed that he was still red.


	11. Three Xmen walked into a Bar

A/N: Life is good! It's spring break, it's actually warm, and I passed my super hard, incredibly and amazingly difficult, never-dreamed-I-could-possibly-make-it audition! So you peoples, my lovely readers, get to share in my joy by receiving this brand new chapter.

Chapter 9:

So three X-men and an Acolyte walked into a Bar…

The sound of billiard balls and shot glasses clinking against one another was a pleasant and familiar background noise as Remy stared at the pool table in contemplation. It wasn't the shot he had to make that had him so deep in thought, but rather why he was in the bar in the first place.

The nagging little voice in the back of his mind that he identified as his conscience after some consideration—he didn't hear from it very often—told him that he should go back to Bayville. It was wrong of him to leave the X-men and all those innocent people there in the dark as to what was going on. They deserved as much a chance to get out and to protect themselves as he did.

Then again…

What was going to happen was going to happen. There was nothing that he or anyone else could do about it now—at least, not in the time they had left. He could do the most good if he was far removed from the situation, and not involved with the complicated goings-on there. If he went to anyone, he would be the one getting the blame. Even though it wasn't _really_ his fault, even though it was all Magneto's doing, he would be the only one that they would be able to punish for it. So he would get the punishment. And he could do absolutely nothing to help if he were in jail or injured or dead—which were pretty much the only three outcomes that he could imagine should anyone pin the blame on him.

And anyway, did he really want to get involved with the problems that were about to start there anyway? No, he wanted to be as far away as possible when everything started happening. He had what he needed from Magneto, and he was never going back.

Remy lined up with the cue and took the shot. Just as he had intended, the small white ball hit the number six ball dead on, causing it to roll neatly into the pocket. So that left him only to decide where to go now.

The Cajun stepped away from his solo pool game, feeling tired of it all of a sudden. What he needed right now was a good, stiff shot of alcohol—preferably bourbon, if they had it—to help him relax. He was much too tense about this whole issue for his own good. What was wrong with him anyway? He had never used be concerned with much of anyone besides himself and his close friends. Well, Magneto had turned the only people he would come close to considering his friends against him, and that left no one in Bayville for him to be concerned about. So why worry about people he didn't even care about?

Yes, he definitely needed that bourbon right now. Just back, relax, and let the alcohol do its work.

The bartender was more than happy to oblige. Multiple times over, actually. In fact, Remy was well on his way to being drunk when they walked in.

At first he didn't recognize them. Number one, they were in their street clothes—who paid attention to anyone who wasn't wearing anything flashy these days? Number two, at the moment he could care less about what was going on around him—he was entirely occupied with the contents of his mind. The constant battle of his id and superego were more than enough to distract anyone from the mundane happenings of the physical world. This was especially true for Remy, considering that he was number three, intoxicated.

Eventually, however, it came to his attention that there were three people that seemed very out of place in the bar. In fact, it looked as though they weren't sure that this was the right place to be… maybe they were looking for someone…

It took all of the young man's willpower not to leap out of his chair and run for the exits as quickly as he could. Buzzed though he was, the sight of three X-men looking for someone was enough to sober him up in a second. Especially considering that the person they were looking for was probably him.

He forced himself to calm down. There was no sign that they wanted conflict—maybe they only had a question about Magneto that the Professor had forgotten to ask while he was at the mansion. He snorted at the thought. Unlikely. They either knew what he had done, or they wanted something from him—and neither of these options sounded particularly inviting to him.

Then again, Remy was not a man to back down from a challenge. He had lied to the face of one of the world's most powerful psychics not a week ago, and in a fight…he took a moment to assess his opponents. That seemed to be Cyclops—no problems with that one. The man was a strong leader, but in a fight Remy could easily best him. Jean Grey—she was the amateur psychic, wasn't she?—she posed a little more threat because her powers were something he couldn't combat. Still, her skills were a bit rough yet around the edges, and a little bit of charm could go a long way to defeating them.

The last member of the party, though, was a bit more of a threat. Stormy was an experienced fighter, and she knew how to use her powers to her best advantage. If he recalled correctly, she even had a little bit of a history with the Thieves' Guild, and that wasn't something to go underestimating. Stormy posed a real danger to him, and in a combination with the other two the group very well might be a force to be reckoned with whether or not he could take them on individually. Even though he could probably take them if he was pushed to it, he wanted to avoid that situation if at all possible.

That left him, somewhat regrettably, with the option of a peaceful confrontation. He wouldn't have minded taking a few of his troubles out on that Cyclops fellow; the guy was too stiff for his own good. But no, that was the wrong line of thinking if he was going to try _not_ to fight with them. He would simply have to do with verbally antagonizing him.

It was laughably simple to sneak up behind his target (although he might _possibly_ have been using a little extra of his thief's stealth to do it). He amused himself for a while by simply following the teenager in his circuit around the room, but soon grew bored with that.

"I t'ought dat dey didn't let _hommes_ your age in here," he commented nonchalantly, as if they were already in the middle of a friendly conversation. The result, of course, was that Scott jumped two feet in the air in surprise. Really, the man thought that since he barked out commands that he was impervious to attacks. He should be more careful in strange pubs.

"My God, Gambit, you scared me half to death!" the younger man exclaimed as soon as he realized who he was dealing with.

"Y' should watch your back more careful, Cykes," Remy advised. "Never know when some nasty piece o' work's gonna come up from behind."

"Well, if—" Cyclops cut himself off mid-sentence. Remy couldn't quite tell through the tinted glasses, but if he had to make a guess he would say that he was being squinted at quite suspiciously. The eyebrows were certainly furrowed in that attitude. "Have you been _drinking_?"

"Dat's usu'lly what people come t' bars for," was the patient reply. At Scott's indignant expression, he continued, "Relax, _homme._ Remy's twen'y one. It be legal."

"I don't think—" For the second time Scott was cut off, but this time it was not by himself.

"Oh, thank goodness we found you," Jean said, breezing completely by Scott. "I was starting to think we came to the wrong place."

"Well, here Remy is," Gambit stated amiably. "De question is, why are _you_ here? If y're here to enjoy de company, de _fille_'s more dan welcome, but Scotty-boy's gonna hafta go."

Scott looked somewhat offended at the suggestion that he and his girlfriend would be "enjoying the company", especially in a place like this. "Listen, Gambit, not all of us—"

"Cut it out, Scott," Jean snapped. Well, perhaps not girlfriend, then, Remy corrected. Or at least a very pissed off one.

"What, not too _overprotective_ for you, am I?" The X-man demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.

"As a matter of fact, yes," was the telepath's response. She placed her hands on her hips, the picture of defiance. Remy got the distinct impression that he was missing something—it seemed as though they were making a continuation of a previous argument that he had not had the good fortune to witness. "There's nothing to get so upset about!"

"He was implying that we—that you would—" he began, and yet again Jean interrupted. Gambit was tempted to interject, but decided against it. This bickering was far too amusing for him to intrude.

"I can defend my own sensibilities, thank you very much," she bit out. "And I'm more than capable of deciding what to take offense at for myself."

"Just because you don't—"

"Scott! Jean!" Here came the cavalry. Remy smirked a little as Scott was stopped mid-sentence once again. It seemed that the younger man was doomed never to get a complete thought out of his mouth again.

"We came here to gain Gambit's help, not for your arguments to drive him away," Storm scolded. The two students became subdued, although both were still glaring daggers at one another. "If you are unable to put your disagreements aside while we have a mission to achieve, I will be forced to seriously question the wisdom of sending you on them."

"Yes, Storm," the feuding couple agreed in chorus, although neither looked too happy.

"Have you informed Gambit of our intentions yet?" the white-haired woman wanted to know.

"Please, call m' Remy," he insisted with his most winsome smile. The smile did not seem to have the desired effect on the African native, but he figured that it didn't hurt to be polite. "An' dey were just 'bout to tell Remy why such beautiful _filles_ were lookin' for him when y' came in."

"Remy, then," Storm allowed with a pleasant, motherly smile. Remy decided that it didn't suit her. She was too young to be motherly. "We were hoping you could assist us with a bit of a situation."

"Why Remy?" he wanted to know. Now that they were moving on to business, he was beginning to feel a little bit edgy. If they suspected him… "It seems to him dat you X-men got plenty o' skilled people workin' for you. So what's so special 'bout Remy dat you gotta track him down?"

"You're the only one that really knows much about Magneto, besides the Professor," Jean explained. "And what he knows isn't much use to us right now."

"Oh, no." Remy put his hands up, palms facing the group before him, shook his head violently, and took a few steps back. "Remy's not gettin' involved wit' him again. Y' gotta find yourselves anot'er guy, 'cause I'm not goin' anywhere near dat psycho."

The three good-doers looked at each other in concern, any disagreement between Scott and Jean temporarily forgotten in the apparent urgency of the situation. Cyclops sighed in frustration, and seemed to make an abrupt decision.

"Look, you're the only one that can help us right now," he informed him shortly, "or, quite frankly, I would be the last one to go for your help."

"Oh, dat's _really_ gonna convince me," Remy muttered, but let the bespectacled boy continue.

"If it were just a matter of needing to defeat Magneto, we wouldn't even think of coming to you. But there's more than just us on the line, here." Scott looked at the ceiling as though questioning the wisdom of telling the former Acolyte what he was about to. When he looked back at the man before him, there was determination written on his face, and…was that a trace of shame? One last sigh, and he began to speak.

"He took Rogue."

Three little words. Just three little words, but they changed everything.

Remy swore viciously, much to the surprise of the others. His mouth set into a grim line, and there was now a fiery glint to his unique eyes. Later he would wonder why Scott's words had such an impact on him. For now, all he knew was that he was angry, he was a little frightened, and he needed to get Rogue out of Magneto's grasp. Now.

"Start talkin', Scotty-boy."

The ride back to Bayville was spent explaining to him what was going on. It was fairly straightforward, if a little frightening. Magneto had kidnapped Rogue for the seemingly sole purpose of using her to get him back—although from his experience with the man, Magneto rarely had just one reason for anything. So the options left were these: they could bend to the evil genius's will and trade people, they could try to break Rogue out, or they could let her try to get her own way out.

It was during this discussion that Remy learned the nature of the argument between the seemingly flawless couple. From what they had told him and from what he gathered, Jean had somehow managed to find a way through Magneto's shield and made mental contact with the prisoner. From this contact, Jean had learned that Rogue didn't want to be rescued, that apparently she had some sort of unfinished business that she wanted to take care of before breaking Magneto's grip on her.

Jean was in favor of letting Rogue do as she chose. She felt that the younger girl was able to make her own decisions and judge whether or not the situation was too dangerous. And even if the situation _did_ get dangerous, the telepath argued, Rogue was able to take care of herself, and if not, she would let the X-men know.

Scott's take on the matter disagreed with his girlfriend's. He proclaimed that it was their duty to take care of their teammates, to protect them. He absolutely did not think that anyone at all was safe with Magneto, no matter how secure they thought they were. He cared about Rogue like she was his little sister, but he did not believe in her abilities to assess a situation, and he believed that she would have too much pride to call for help if she needed it.

Or at least, that was what Remy got out of the discussion before Jean accused Scott of being overprotective, and he retaliated by saying that she was irresponsible, and the whole conversation degenerated to the level of elementary-schoolers.

Much as Remy hated to admit it, he was inclined to mostly agree with Scott on this matter. He trusted Magneto as far as he could throw a refrigerator—which, despite his impressive muscles, was not far. He did believe that Rogue had something to take care of, and that she could protect herself. He was certain that she _thought_ she knew what she was doing, and that she would never trust Magneto. But he knew that she had a stubborn streak a mile wide, and that she would never admit defeat even with her dying breath. He also knew that Magneto was very persuasive, and there was undoubtedly something that he wanted from the Southern girl, something that she might or might not be supplying him with, and something that would probably bode ill for the rest of them if she did give it to him.

Not that he would ever say as much to Cyclops, of course. But it meant that he was definitely in on the whole plan to spring Rogue from her willing prison. No matter what it took. Even if it meant surrendering himself once more to the one person he would most like to avoid.

Upon their arrival at the X-mansion, Remy found himself set upon by an exceedingly hyperactive brunette. He seemed to recall that she was the roommate of the missing girl, although where he had acquired this information was something that he could not recall. Not that it really mattered.

He listened with half an ear as she informed him of the mansion rules and led him to the room he would be inhabiting for his time there (something that surprised him despite himself; it should have occurred to him that he wouldn't be staying in the hospital wing for however long it took to rescue his _chere_).

It caught him off guard when the girl, Kitty, changed topics.

"I'm so glad that you're here to help, er—"

"Remy," he supplied, too surprised at the girl's capacity for talking to say much more.

"Yeah, Remy," she agreed, taking her stumble in stride. "I'm, like, really worried about Rogue, y'know? I mean, it's not like I don't trust the Professor and everyone, but no one really knows what we're dealing with."

"Well, den, it's a good t'ing dat you brought Remy in," he attempted to reassure her. He looked around the bare dorm room and set his bag down. He gestured for Shadowcat to have a seat on the bed, and he did the same a moment later. He bit back a smile as she grabbed a pillow to hug over her crossed legs.

"Yeah. I knew that you wouldn't let Magneto kidnap Rogue and get away with it," the brunette informed him as matter-of-factly as if he had already told her the same thing. "Scott only wanted to bring you in so we can trade you for her, can you imagine? He doesn't trust people real easily. But the Professor said that you had to be the one to decide what happens. I think we should totally bust her out of there. You don't deserve to go back to that totally awful place."

"An' what makes you say dat?" Gambit was curious about what had given the teenager such confidence in his personality. He had only ever met her in battle, and that was hardly something to inspire trust, considering that they had been on opposing teams.

"Isn't it, like, totally obvious?" she wanted to know, puzzling him further.

"Not to Remy," he persisted. "Y're gonna hafta spell it out for him, 'cause Remy doesn't have a clue what he's done t' make y' like him so much."

Kitty sighed in a way that suggested that men were utterly oblivious to everything. "It takes, like, a _whole_ lot to get Rogue to like you, let alone trust you. And somehow you managed to do both in, like, record time. If that doesn't say something for your personality, I don't know what does."

"Remy wouldn't say dat she trusts him," he protested, surprised at what the girl was telling him. Was it really possible that Rogue liked him as much as all that? "Enjoys arguin' wit' him, maybe, but not trust him."

"Trust _me_, Remy, she totally does," Kitty insisted. "And if she doesn't, well, what better way to make her than by playing Prince Charming and rescuing her from Magneto?"

"I wouldn't have so much faith in Remy's ability to rescue her if I were you," Gambit cautioned. It flattered him that she would believe in him so fully, but he really didn't think he had the ability to save the girl short of turning himself over. And he sincerely doubted whether he would have the courage to do that.

"Well, you're, like, so not me," Kitty proclaimed flippantly, replacing the pillow on the bed. "Besides, anyone that has Rogue so obviously head-over-heels can't be _totally_ useless."

With that, the misleadingly ditzy young woman walked through the door, leaving Remy with his thoughts.

"Head over heels?" he repeated to himself. "De girl's gotta be imaginin' t'ings."

Still, as he began to unpack his things into his temporary home, he couldn't quite manage to wipe the smile off his face.


	12. Through the Eyes of a Villain

Disclaimer: If I owned X-men, I would have made them put Gambit in the movies long ago and added a good extra helping of Kiotr.

A/N: Yes, I know, short chapter, but you'll be getting more now that it's summer and all.

SUPER IMPORTANT! I may or may not be changing the name of this fic sometime in the future, so be warned. Last time I tried that, I got, like, two reviews, so I had to change it back. This time you will know in advance.

Chapter 10

Through the Eyes of a Villain

Erik Lensherr walked a fine line.

He liked to think of himself as a reasonable man. No matter what his old friend Charles Xavier said, it only made sense that the next step of evolution was superior to the previous; it was simple logic. All he wanted was for mutantkind to get the respect it was due from "normal" humans (who, if anyone, were the ones that deserved to be treated like scum, not the other way around). And if it took violence to achieve that goal, the domination of humans, then he was not afraid to use it.

Still, there were lines that should not be crossed. Underhanded though he could be, Magneto _did_ have a sense of honor of his own. And it was because of this that he found his mind divided.

He sighed and leaned on the desk before him, looking at the grain of the woodwork on it. Insane and maniacal though it seemed, Erik's true mission in life was to establish the superiority of his kind. He would do almost anything to achieve that. And yet…and yet he found himself holding back. When it came to this, he should not find himself debating with himself over morals; that was Xavier's job. But he could not seem to reconcile this in his mind.

Destroying those that stood in his way was one thing. Even the conquering of the human race was something that was not outside his bounds; it all served to further his purpose. If he kept going by that logic, then what was happening now would only prove a useful stepping stone. But he couldn't help thinking that this was going too far. He had lived through one Holocaust. He did not want to become the cause for another for any race, and that was what was going to happen if this kept on much longer. Certainly he had provided the spark for this catastrophe, but he had not been the one to take action.

And just a week ago he had gained news of something that would have made up his mind for him, no matter what his views on the subject had been before. No matter what his doubts about the morality of it regarding humans, he absolutely would not tolerate it being directed against mutants whether it was intentional or not. This had to be stopped. The problem was in achieving this.

As Erik paced the confines of his room and thought, he began to reach a decision. And it only made sense that as soon as he had started to fashion a plausible solution, someone would interrupt him.

It should not have surprised him that Charles would attempt to contact him. After all, he did have one of his students captive. What truly surprised him was how long it had taken Xavier to do so; it seemed that the man was growing remiss in his old age. There had been a day that the psychic would have done this the very hour he discovered that one of those children had been taken, but it seemed that this was no longer the case.

_Charles._ He greeted the handicapped mutant with a smile. Despite their opposing views, they still remained friends, something that no doubt baffled the younger mutants on either team. _I do believe you are losing your touch._

_Your mental barriers have improved quite a bit,_ was the pleasant response. The casual observer would not have guessed how serious the subject matter which had caused this encounter truly was.

_You did not contact me to make small talk. _The pleasantness left his face and voice.Frankly, Erik was in no mood to beat around the bush. He wanted to get this unpleasant encounter over with as soon as he possibly could so that he could get on to more important matters. And make no mistake; this would without a doubt be unpleasant. It was another of those things that the younger mutants could never understand. He would do whatever was necessary to further his goal, but that by no means meant that he liked lying to and betraying his former colleague.

Even as these thoughts crossed his mind he found himself experiencing the by-now-familiar sensation of being transported to the astral plane. He stopped himself from releasing an irritated sigh; he had truly hoped to get this over with before Xavier resorted this. The psychic, however, clearly had other plans.

In a blink Magneto found himself face-to-face with his nemesis and comrade. It was sometimes disconcerting to find the man standing and with hair after having become accustomed to him otherwise. He, on the other hand, had carefully learned to appear in his battle outfit; he could not bear to expose any weaknesses even—especially—to Charles.

"That is true," Xavier stated with a frown, acting as if nothing had happened at all between Erik's comment and his own. "Erik, you must give her back. She is not involved in any of this, nor will your possession of her achieve anything."

"I would not be so certain of how much she will achieve were I in your place," the Master of Magnetism cautioned. "It may well be a great deal more than you had counted on."

"If you have done anything to hurt her—"

"Has it ever occurred to you that she might _want_ to be here, Charles?" He interrupted. He took great pride in his ability to use half-truths and omissions to his advantage, and in this case it was a necessity. "It was only a matter of time before she realized that I shall not hinder her as you have. She realizes that she must go back should my conditions for her ransom be met—but she has no desire to return before then, so I suggest that you do not press the matter."

"I do not believe a word of it," Xavier returned stubbornly, to which Erik rose an inquiring eyebrow.

"You may believe it or not as you like, my dear friend, but surely a great psychic such as yourself must be able to recognize the truth." The urge to smirk infuriatingly was just too much, and the resulting expression was a nice touch to his previous statement. He could practically feel the great pacifist bristling. "Now if you will so kindly return me to my body, I have far more pressing matters to attend to."

"What you are doing is wrong, Erik," Charles snapped, surprising him. "Your past sins are one thing, but biological warfare…I cannot allow you to do this!"

"You have no idea what you are talking about!" Magneto snapped, suddenly boiling with rage. "What I am doing is trying to save the world, not destroy it, and you would do well to realize that before attempting to chastise me! You speak of peace and prosperity, but you and your X-men are the ones preventing it!"

With the last word of this tirade, he found himself back in his office. He smiled humorlessly. "Just like you, Charles," he spoke quietly, although the man as likely as not could not hear him. "Can't handle being told you're wrong."

He sat down slowly and looked again at the letter on his desk. Well, perhaps not letter. Perhaps the word "note" or "threat" would have suited it better. No matter its name, though, its message was clear. Not only could Xavier not handle the truth, he could not know it. If it was only Erik's life on the line he might have risked it—but not at the cost of the entire Xavier Institute, no matter how much danger they posed to his ideals.

And there lay the true motives in what he was doing. It was not love of humankind, or fear of this "biological warfare" that drove him. This enemy was willing to destroy hundreds, even thousands of mutants without a second thought. And for that he must be punished.

Now he had reached the point he had been at when Xavier had cut in. How would he achieve this? His Acolytes were strong, but were they strong enough?

And of course there would have to be a knock at the door now. That was the way it worked. Just as soon as he began to make progress, he would have to be interrupted.

"Enter," he growled, sitting up straight and carefully removing the emotion from his features.

The girl he had been speaking of not ten minutes ago entered the room, clad in the darkest clothes in her supplied wardrobe and a very determined expression. She closed the door to the office behind her, then turned to face him with arms crossed.

"Alright, Magneto, Ah'm sick of this. Ah want to know what's really goin' on around here, and you're gonna tell me."


	13. Lovely Scientific MumboJumbo

Disclaimer: I don't own the X-men, although I do exploit the fact that in that universe if anything sounds vaguely scientific, it becomes plausible, even if it really _isn't_ possible.

A/N: I never thought that I'd get more than 100 reviews on this story. Thank you so much. I love you all, even if I do neglect you on occasion! (And give you cliffies. Sorry, I had to have this one too; it seemed like a good stopping point, and I'm really tired right now)

As a side note, I'm beginning to confuse even myself with all the different angles and twists of the plot. I made it far too complicated for my own good—the only way for me to keep it all straight is to write it down. So if I take too long to update once more, it'll probably be because I'm trying to figure out what on earth is going on. Isn't it reassuring to know that your author is just as foggy on where the story is headed as you are?

Chapter 11

Lovely Scientific Mumbo-Jumbo

Rogue stared through the open door of Piotr's bedroom in undisguised shock. She wasn't sure if he had left it open on purpose or if it had been an oversight on his part, but with the big Russian's room open for all to see it was practically begging for her to look at it.

It wasn't as though she hadn't ever seen it before, but in those instances she had been concentrating more on Peter (he claimed he didn't mind the use of this Anglicized version of his name) than his habitat. She had never really taken the time to look at how he chose to decorate the one place he could call his own.

Now, though, he had temporarily abandoned his stronghold, so there was no large, muscle-bound man to distract her. And she was in total astonishment at what she saw.

Paintings. Dozens of them. She marveled at their number and quality, and wondered why on earth Piotr had them in his possession. Strangely enough, few of them were hung on the walls, but rather were stashed about the room so that all that could be seen was the back or sides of the canvas and not the art itself. Those that she were visible, though, were amazing. Several of them featured a young, sweet-faced and blonde-haired girl, but she was not the only human subject. Others were pastoral in nature, and yet more were still-lives. One thing tied them all together, though: they were undeniably masterpieces.

It wasn't until she noticed the easel in the corner, canvas in place, that she realized that it was her erstwhile companion that was the artist behind these gorgeous paintings.

Rogue resisted the temptation to go within and see what wondrous images were hiding their faces from the world, but rather wrenched her eyes from the room and forced herself to keep walking. She knew the value of privacy all too well, and she was not going to be intruding on that of the one person she might actually like around here. She already felt the beginning twinges of guilt for what she had seen, although she told herself that it was silly, that he had left the door open for all to see, and it wasn't as if she had actually entered his room.

Besides that, she had other, more pressing tasks before her. Much as she would have liked to ponder the fact that those large hands held within them a skill of what was probably professional caliber, she didn't think that being pulled into the astral plane in the middle of the hall would be a good thing.

Rogue glanced at her watch anxiously and swore, speeding up. Jean was already two minutes later than they had scheduled this "meeting" of theirs, which meant that she could be pulled away at any moment. She contemplated being worried at the telepath's tardiness, but brushed away the thought. For all that she was a perfectionist, Jean _was_ human after all. It was entirely possible that she had gotten caught up in a make-out session with Scott and lost track of the time.

This thought caused the Mississippian to snort. Knowing the two of them, it was entirely unlikely. If Jean hadn't remembered, Scott most definitely would have. Knowing him, in his mind making out with his "true love" couldn't possibly rank higher than responsibility.

Rogue fought down the bitter feeling that had risen up in her throat at the thought of that pair together and concentrated on making it to her room as soon as possible. She was over him—she knew she was. Or she told herself she was, anyway. There were moments, though, that she couldn't help but wish that she was the one that was the object of his affections. Perhaps she was over him—but she had yet to move on.

"Oi, sheila!"

The shout echoed down the hall, and despite the warm Australian accent that she enjoyed listening to (in other people, anyway), Rogue winced. She didn't have time for this, and knowing St. John it would take much more time than she had to get rid of him.

"Ah'm sorry, Rogue's not here right now," she stated loudly from between clenched teeth, not breaking stride. "Leave a message after the beep, and she'll get back ta ya as soon as she can. Thanks, bye!"

There was a moment of silence in which she dared to hope against hope that she had actually gotten rid of him, and then his voice rang out again.

"Hey! Wheah's the beep?" From the sounds of it, he was speeding up to pull even with her. She increased her own pace in response as she tried very hard not to turn around and strangle the man.

"Ah'd give ya one," she gritted out, fingernails digging into her palms even through her gloves, "but my censor's takin' the day off, and Ah don't want ta scar your poor, impressionable little ears."

"Well, that's awful considerate o' you," Pyro replied, unfazed. "I think I'll just have to return the favah." Rogue spared a glance at her watch, and mentally cursed. She was now four minutes late, and the current bane of her existence had nearly caught up with her.

"Y'all want ta do me a favor?" She demanded, pivoting on her heel so that she was face to face with her aggravator. "Ya can leave me the heck alone! In case ya hadn't noticed, Ah'm kinda busy at the moment."

"But—but I—"

"Don't wanna hear it, Oz."

Pyro seemed crestfallen at her refusal to give him attention, but she ignored it. The man had an emotional imbalance; he was always at the one end of the spectrum or the other, and it was far too easy to tip him in either direction. She had no doubt that given a few minutes, he would have found something new to excite him and he would completely forget the fact that he had been upset in the first place.

Pyro was soon pushed out of her mind as she finally reached her destination and slammed the door behind her. She took a few breaths to calm her racing heart as she slumped against the door in relief. It seemed impossible that she had actually gotten there in time…well, with time to spare. According to her watch, she was approximately seven minutes late, and Jean was even later than that.

Second after long second passed, and with each one Rogue became more and more anxious. This wasn't like Jean at all. She was seriously beginning to rethink her decision not to worry—Jean would only be this late if something was very wrong.

As she waited for _some_ sort of contact, the southerner attempted to distract herself, but nothing seemed to work. She tried reading, but she couldn't keep her attention on the words on her page, and after four tries at the same passage gave it up as a lost cause. Nor could she concentrate on coming up with new ways to get out from under Magneto's gaze if only for a few hours, and the music she put on as a distraction only served as white noise. Finally she gave up trying to keep her mind off the issue and focused all her energy on pacing the small room and worrying, because until she heard from Jean leaving her quarters was definitely out of the question.

_Rogue?_

The thusly named girl stopped in her tracks as once again relief washed over her. She had never before thought that she would be so happy to hear Jean's "voice".

_Yeah, Ah'm here,_ she replied. She wondered if all people could commune with psychics as well as she could, or if she was just special because of the voices in her head. _What's the deal? You're twenty minutes late._

_Sorry. We were…doing an errand for the professor, and hit a speed bump._ Rogue wasn't an expert at speaking mind-to-mind, but she got the distinct impression that Jean was uneasy about something.

_All right, Red, spill._ The best way to get the truth, after all, was to ask for it. _There's something that's got ya worried, and Ah want ta know what it is._

_Rogue, I don't have much time to talk right now…_

Well, that explained the reason that they weren't currently in the astral plane, but that didn't dent Rogue's need to know in the slightest.

_Then y'all better make it the short version, hadn't ya?_

_All right, but you won't like it. _It wasn't necessary to see Jean to know that she was frowning. Rogue briefly contemplated the possibility that in telepathic conversations emotions spilled through along with the words, but Jean was continuing by that point.

_I know you're fine where you are, but some of the others…well, they won't listen to me. They insisted on contacting Gambit so he can help us get you back. That's why I was so late—we were out looking for him. _The frown in her voice deepened._ I've been trying to tell them that you don't want our help, but they don't think you can take care of yourself._

_Well, ya can tell them that they can swarm in here guns blazin', and they can leave without prized parts o' their anatomy—or me._ That comment seemed to make Jean feel better, although the news made Rogue feel considerably more irritated.

_I'll let them know. But Rogue…_She could feel the hesitation in those words, and that only served to irritate her further.

_Spit it out already, _she demanded impatiently, putting one hand on her hip even though the gesture would be lost on the older girl given the context of the conversation. _Stallin' is only gonna make me angrier than what ya have ta say._

_You _are_ sure that you're okay there, aren't you? _The tone made it clear that the telepath was reluctant to imply that Rogue couldn't take care of herself, but she had been given no choice. _I mean, you do know what Magneto's trying to do and why he wants Gambit so much?_

_O' course Ah know what Mags is doin',_ Rogue informed her automatically, trying her best to be patient but sounding more snappish than she had intended. _Jean, Ah've been used too many times _not_ to find out exactly what Ah'm gettin' myself inta before signin' any papers. That was a figure o' speech, by the way, _she added at the wave of dread that she knew was Jean's reaction to her words.

_Right. I'm sorry…everyone's being so paranoid, I think it's rubbing off on me._

_Let me guess…Scotty-boy and my brother are bein' overprotective and draggin' everyone else right along with them._

_Got it in one. _Jean's mental presence dimmed for a few moments, and then returned in full. _The professor wants to talk to me…I really have to go now._

_Don't be so late next time, and be sure ta give my regards ta anyone that even _thinks_ about rescuin' me, _she instructed, wry smile in place. Wasn't it funny how she got along with Jean marvelously when she wasn't face-to-face with her?

_I'll do my best,_ was the somewhat distracted response, and then Rogue was alone in her mind once more. Well, as alone as she ever got, with all those psyches floating around.

Now the Mississippi girl was pacing again, not out of worry this time but out of frustration. How dare they? How dare Scott and Kurt and everyone else suggest that she didn't know what she was doing? It was absolutely ludicrous! Did they really think so poorly of her judgment, that they would completely ignore her express request to be left alone and try to plan a useless rescue attempt? Of course she knew what she was doing! Like she'd told Jean, she would never sign on to something without knowing exactly what she was advocating. She knew _precisely_ what—

Rogue stopped in her tracks, a cold feeling washing over her. She _didn't_ know what she was doing. Magneto had dropped her a few vague lines about a threat that he hadn't even named, and she had lapped it right up.

With a string of curses that would have done Logan proud, she burst out of her room with one destination in mind: Magneto's office. She couldn't believe that she had done this _again_. She had been tricked and used. The worse part was that she was the one that was to blame—she should have pressed for more details, should have guessed that Magneto would only feed her a pack of lies, should have made sure that she knew just what goal she would be fighting for. How could she have fallen for it? It seemed as though being used was the only thing she was good for in this life.

At least this time she was realizing it before it was too late. She might have done more than she should have, but at least she could still get out. She wasn't even allowing for the possibility that she would want to support this mission of Erik Lensherr's; at this point in time, it was an utter impossibility.

Rogue stopped before the office door, took a few stabilizing breaths, and set her jaw. She was going to find out what was happening, and if she didn't, she was out of there. Without even bothering to knock, she threw open the door and marched in. She took a moment to close the door and steel herself for the conversation to come, then turned to face Magneto with her arms crossed.

"Alright, Magneto, Ah'm sick of this. Ah want to know what's really goin' on around here, and you're gonna tell me."

There was a moment of quiet in the office in which Erik raised an eyebrow. "My dear, I have already told you all that you need to know. There is a threat to the safety of your friends; we are combating it. What more do you require?"

"For one thing," Rogue snapped, not even needing to try to look her most intimidating. "Ah already told ya not to call me that. For anothah thing, Ah happen to require a great deal more. Just tellin' me that there's some big, scary villain that might _possibly_ endangah the X-men ain't gonna cut it. Ah want ta know _exactly_ what's happenin', and Ah'm gonna find out one way or the othah." With each word Rogue's rich, southern accent grew thicker and thicker. "Now are we gonna do this the easy way or the hard way?"

Magneto looked up at her and made one last effort. "I suppose that you won't stop until I tell you what you want to know?"

"Well, y'all don't hafta _tell_ me," the teenager pointed out with an even deeper scowl, "but it'd sure be a helluva lot easier for the both of us."

Erik sighed, conceding defeat. "Please, have a seat," he instructed, and slowly, deliberately, she complied. The man behind the desk remained quiet for a moment, and Rogue was beginning to wonder if she really would have to absorb him after all when he finally began to speak.

"I believe that you may have heard news of a strange illness of late that drains the strength of any that catches it?" Magneto began. Rogue inclined her head in acknowledgement; she had seen the news anchor-people puzzle over the puzzlement of the scientists whose jobs it was to uncover the secrets behind the disease. Distressing, yes, but she knew that there was nothing she could do about it, so had decided it wasn't worth worrying herself over.

"Then I must tell you that it is not an illness. It is caused by no pathogen—it is purely the creation of humans trying to limit the power of their superiors. It is a miniscule machine that was built to latch onto a mutant's X gene; every time that a mutant's ability is put into use, a fraction of the energy that would be used is sapped by the Simulated Pathogen Device—or SPD, if you will. A portion of the energy the SPD gains it keeps in order to keep operating. The rest is transmitted to a storage unit, a giant battery, if you will, to hold the energy until it can be put to further use. Of course, that is only what I have been led to believe; it is entirely plausible that certain details have been omitted."

Upon completing this explanation, Magneto withdrew from his chair and began to pace the floor in front of her. She followed him with her eyes only, not moving her head a millimeter as the man continued with his explanatory speech.

"The SPD, being as yet a prototype, has two main flaws. The first is that the SPD drains the energy faster than the body can produce it, leading to the weakness of those who host it. If the SPD is left in the body of an active mutant for a prolonged period of time, it can lead to a coma or even death.

"The second is this: the SPD has not yet been programmed to recognize the difference between humans and mutants. There is no X gene in humans for it to attach to; as a result, the SPD attaches to the mitochondria and absorbs a percentage of ATP as it is produced. This is extremely dangerous; while we as mutants are not in constant use of our powers, the body's production of energy never ceases. It does not take long for the host to grow weak and die; in short, a human who becomes a carrier of the SPD stands very little chance of survival."

Rogue waited a moment, wondering if Magneto would say more, but he appeared to be finished. She, however, was not.

"That's all very well and good, but what does that have ta do with what's goin' on here, and how do you know all this?" She demanded of him. He could spout science and "SPD's" all he wanted, but that didn't mean she would accept it as an explanation.

"That, Rogue, has everything to do with what's going on here," Erik snapped, halting his circuit of the room to look at her sharply. "It is the creation the enemy that you are now questioning."

Once more Magneto began his pacing. "At first I endorsed his research, thinking that his creation might prove…useful to my ends. I provided the funding, and he and his team did all the work. Just as the product was nearing completion, however, things began to go awry." He paused a moment to raise an eyebrow at her. "Our dear friend Gambit decided to do a little investigating of his own." More pacing. "In doing so, he revealed for me the fact that this scientist, who called himself only EM, was preparing to use this SPD to target mutants rather than humans as had been the agreement. EM is also the one to put the stolen power to use, doubtless to further the destruction of his betters.

"But Gambit did something else as well. He provided the means for EM to release his SPD. He is now the carrier of the 'disease'; all those that come into contact with him are in danger of catching it."

Rogue could not help the quick intake of air at this statement. Could it be that in helping to escape, the X-men had only made matters worse? She frowned yet more deeply at this idea. Everything that Magneto was telling her was probably a lie, or at best a version of the truth twisted to his advantage.

"So you see, Rogue, why it is so necessary to have Gambit returned for that reason alone. But of course, his nature got the better of him and he took something that is of great value to EM. Our nemesis has agreed to distribute a certain amount of the 'vaccine,' if you will, for the SPD—as long as Gambit is turned over to him along with the item he stole."


	14. Luck be a Lady

A/N: I had a lot of fun with this chapter. A few of you may be scandalized by certain aspects (you'll know when you get there), but I just couldn't resist. Anyway, I think that out of all the characters that I've written, Remy's personality is probably my favorite—although I think I went a little crazy on his accent this time around. But hey, you have an update. Enjoy!

Chapter 12

Luck be a Lady

Remy LeBeau looked up at the building with dread. It didn't seem extraordinary in any way—just an old warehouse in the more rundown section of Bayville. Nothing to be afraid of at all; it didn't even look like it held the possibility to be haunted, let alone hold a living threat. In fact, the sun setting behind it gave it a picturesque feeling as twilight settled over the street where he stood.

The truth was, though, that out of any building on earth, this was the last one that he wanted to enter. Yet there he was with a small band of the X-men preparing to go within.

"You're sure that this is the right place?" Cyclops demanded, raising a skeptical eyebrow. Remy glanced at him and the others, taking in the group. Kitty was whispering intensely to the blue furry boy, who in turn was looking grim and determined. Wolverine appeared as though he just wanted an excuse for a good brawl, and Remy made a mental note to make sure not to annoy him too much; they might have been on the same side for now, but the older man made it clear that he was less than happy to have Gambit at his back. It didn't help that he had protested fiercely that Logan should not come along, his skeleton being adamantium and all, but it was obvious how well _that _had worked.

Altogether the attack team seemed far too small for the mission they were about to attempt. The Cajun wished fervently that Jean had been inclined to come along, but she had remained resolute in her decision not to support the rescue. The younger students were out of the question, of course, and Stormy was not feeling well enough to accompany them. Thus their current group, only five strong, was as large as they could manage. Remy prayed that Lady Luck was on their side tonight.

"Gambit?" Scott prompted impatiently, as it seemed a five-second-long delay was five seconds too long for him. The man being addressed made a face at how high-strung the team leader was.

"_Oui, mon ami_, dis be it," he confirmed, once more turning to look apprehensively at the cleverly disguised secret base. They were gathered in the shadow of a building farther down the street so as not to be seen so easily, and although it was hard to see their target structure, he would have recognized it a mile away. "Gambit don't forget dese t'ings."

"All right, enough with the small talk," Wolverine cut in. "You all know what you're doing, so go _do_ it. Don't take on anyone you're not ready to handle, got it?"

There was a murmur of assent from the group, and then they were in action. The blue fuzzy one (was it Nightcrawler?) grabbed Cyclops and disappeared in a puff of sulfur, followed shortly by Shadowcat's pulling Wolverine through the wall of the building they stood by. Gambit hesitated a moment, then sprang into action.

One thing about working for an evil mastermind, he reasoned as he darted between shadows, was that you knew exactly where all the security cameras were situated—and thus knew how to avoid them.

The plan was a simple one: they split into groups, find Rogue, and get out of there. Remy had provided a diagram of the base from his memory and explained where she would be most likely to be kept, allowing the X-men to locate her and get her back to the mansion as quickly and efficiently as possible. They would attempt to avoid any conflict, and with any luck they would be gone before Magneto even knew they had even been there.

Of course, it wouldn't be the first time his luck had left him, and it probably wouldn't be the last.

"Here's hopin'," he muttered as he pulled his bo staff from his belt. He took a moment to gather his wits about him, and with a sudden burst of energy sprinted towards the base. Vaulting off of his staff for an extra boost, it was only a matter of seconds before he had managed to climb onto a second-floor window ledge, and in another moment he was inside.

The lights in the room he had broken into were off, but this posed no problem. He knew the layout of the place like the back of his hand whether in broad daylight—especially considering that at one point this had been his own personal room. This was why he had reserved this particular route for himself: he was the most likely to get past the living quarters without incident.

Quietly he crept to the door, listened for a moment for signs of life outside, then just as silently crept through. As had been expected, there was no one in sight, but habit and caution made him move stealthily nonetheless. If he was caught now, everything would be over; there was nowhere to hide in this big open hallway, and even if he managed to escape he would have put the entire operation in jeopardy.

Each step echoed too-loudly in his ears, although the inexperienced would have claimed that he made no noise at all. Inch by inch the hallway passed by, and with each inch he was closer to the safer, non-residential portion of the base. He was almost there…almost…

And then he heard the laughter.

Remy stopped in his tracks and straightened up, listening intently for the direction it had come from. As if it wasn't strange enough to hear laughter that wasn't maniacal in this place, it was a laugh that he had only rarely heard before, a laugh that was rare and beautiful, a laugh that he irrationally wished that he could inspire.

It was Rogue's laugh.

Relieved to have found his objective so soon but apprehensive of where she might be and who might be with her, he followed the noise back down the hallway. She must be talking to someone, he supposed, although who it was he couldn't imagine, and he cursed himself for the fact that he hadn't heard the voices before. Now that he was straining his ears, he could begin to make out the voice that she was undoubtedly responding to. It was quite obviously male, but soft-spoken and tinted with a bit of an accent. As if to confirm the conclusion that his ears had already come to, he found himself halted before the room that belonged to Piotr.

Remy hesitated outside the half-open door for a moment. What purpose could Rogue have in being in Colossus's room? As far as he knew, she was a prisoner, and it wasn't Magneto's style to let prisoners have free reign of his base. Unless, of course, Jean had been leaving something out in her reasons for not wanting to rescue Rogue…

"…finally became tired enough of it that he started flirting back," Peter was saying, a hint of mirth in his voice. Gambit resolved to figure out what exactly was taking place in there before interrupting, perhaps to get a better handle on the situation, or at least to make a good entrance.

"Ya've got ta be kiddin' me!" the Southern-tinted voice proclaimed, displaying her amusement more freely than the Russian. She seemed to be laughing so hard that she could barely get the words out. "That womanizin' swamp rat makin' eyes at anothah _guy_?"

"I would not have believed it myself if I had not been present."

Ah. It was _that _story that Peter was telling. Remy decided that it would be a good idea to cut in now before things got out of hand.

"Well, y'got t'try everyt'ing once," he pointed out. To the pair in the room, it must have seemed like he had materialized out of nowhere into the suddenly open doorway. "'Sides, wasn't dat bad lookin' f'an _homme_. Wasn't dat bad a kisser, neither."

Peter and Rogue sat staring at him for a moment, and that moment was enough for him to fully realize that not only was Rogue not a prisoner, but she was sitting on the bed with the unwilling Acolyte like they were two girls at a slumber party. They had certainly been telling the right kind of story for that situation.

"'Course, wasn't good 'nough t'take home," he continued, entering the room and closing the door behind him. He found an empty patch of wall and leaned on it as if this was nothing out of the ordinary. "Don' t'ink Remy ever gon' be _dat_ desperate."

"You…!" Rogue exclaimed, standing up for a less passive position. She seemed to be upset by something, probably him, although for the life of him he couldn't think of what it was that he could have done to make her angry. On the other hand, she was female—did she need a logical reason for any of her mood swings?

"Aww, don' tell me y'one dose gay rights fanatics," he persisted as though she had been reacting to what he had said. He knew otherwise, of course, but he had found that most often the best way to find out what was bothering a _femme_ was to act as though nothing was. "'S all right, though. Don' got not'ing wrong wit' homos, just too interested in de _filles_ t'switch teams m'self."

"Y'all got some nerve, swamp rat, bargin' in here like this," Rogue declared, proving his strategy successful once more. "Don't think Ah don't know what's goin' on here, because Ah do."

"Yeah? An' what's dat?" he challenged, abandoning his game in the face of this more serious topic.

"Besides the fact that ya want ta rescue me from somethin' Ah don't need rescuin' from?" she demanded in return, her voice rising angrily. She took a threatening step towards him. "Besides the fact that you tricked Professor Xavier? Besides the fact that you're the reason set loose his stupid "STD" or whatever it's called? Besides the fact that _you're_ the one that's spreadin' the thing?"

By the end of this tirade, she was all of a foot away from him and jabbing him in the chest with her finger. Normally Remy would have enjoyed being in this close proximity with her, but this time he thought he would have to make a slight exception at being confronted with his crimes like this. Thankfully Peter had stood up and now was laying a hand on Rogue's shoulder.

"Perhaps you should sit down while you get your emotions under control," he suggested to the girl, who complied with a scowl and glare at Remy. Peter watched her until she had seated herself on his bed and crossed her arms irritably, then turned back to the object of her anger. "What is this all about?"

"Cajun frog here took something that didn't belong to him and got a villain angry," Rogue explained from the sidelines. "Villain let out very bad, very _fatal_ virus in retribution. O' course, swamp rat decided to run away—even though he's the one that's been carryin' it, and the farther he goes the more people get and _die_, even though the instant he turns himself in said villain's gonna call off the virus. That about sum it up?"

Colossus furrowed his eyebrows in consternation and gave Remy one of his _looks_. "Is this true?"

"_Non_," Remy breathed, eyes wide in horror. There was a sinking feeling in his gut, even as the meaning of the words registered fully. "It can't be. I t'ought—dere wasn't—"

"Surprise," the young woman on the bed quipped dryly. "This whole thing's all your fault, all 'cause you were too much of a _coward_ to deal with the consequences of what you did."

The thief straightened in indignance. "Remy's no coward. He may be a lot of t'ings, but he ain't no coward."

"And you are certain of this?" Peter questioned, although it was unclear as to which person he was speaking. Good ol' Piotr, Remy thought through the haze that had fallen over him. Ever the peacemaker, him.

"Certain as Ah can be," was the response. Whatever the truth might have been, it was obvious that Rogue was convinced of the truth of what she was saying.

"So Remy's de one been spreadin' dis disease de whole time?" he asked rhetorically, as he already knew what the response would be. He shook his head in disbelief. How could it have been him, and he not realizing it? Was he really that oblivious? All those people dead, dying, and sick—and it was all as a direct result of his actions.

"I do not know much about what is happening," Piotr put in, his voice and gaze dark, "but if what Rogue says is the truth, then you can remedy the situation."

But Gambit had already realized what the Acolyte had just put into words. He was no coward, and he would not be responsible for more deaths than he already had been. He knew what he had to do, and no matter how much it pained him, he would do it.

"Well Roguey, looks like y'get t'go back t'your X-men after all," he pointed out, trying not to sound as defeated as he felt.

"Are ya really that dense, swamp rat?" Rogue wanted to know. She stood once more, although her arms remained crossed. "Ah told ya once and Ah'll tell ya again, Ah don't need rescuin'. Ah'm not goin' back there before we kick this "EM" guy's ass to kingdom come, at least not if Ah can help it."

"Glad t'know y'watchin' m'back, _chere._" He had meant it to sound flirty and to thus get her flustered, but it came out with a tad more sincerity than he would have liked. Rogue, however, seemed not to have picked up on it, or at least had chosen to ignore it.

"Hate ta break it to ya, but Ah'm not doin' it for you," she informed him, although the statement wasn't entirely lacking in humor. Remy's spirits lifted a little bit; if he made it out of this alive, then maybe he had a chance with her after all.

"Y'keep tellin' y'self dat," he replied with a knowing smirk, and turned to the door. He shook his head slightly. What was he doing, thinking about that girl like that? She was prickly, didn't like him, and couldn't even _touch_ anyone. It wouldn't be worth it…and yet…

He put the thought off for later, when he was actually certain that he would live long enough to see her again. His hand on the doorknob, he hesitated and turned to look at his old teammate.

"And Peter…" he began quietly and seriously. " 'm sorry I didn't take y'wit'. Y'don' deserve t'be stuck in a place like dis."

Before the big Russian could respond, he was out of the room and once more making his way down the hallway, although this time with a much different destination in mind.

Remy wasn't used to feeling guilty. He had lived most of his life as a thief, and had only rarely felt even the barest twinges of his conscience. He had done some pretty nasty things in his time, but he had never done anything like this. He knew that he had thought it was for the best at the time…he thought he had been doing the world a favor… But now he knew that it had been the exact opposite—probably the biggest mistake of his life.

And now…well, who knew what turns his life would take now. Maybe if he was lucky he would be put out of his misery early on and not be turned into a guinea pig. If he was luckier than that, maybe he could figure out how to get out without making things worse, or Magneto and his team would actually do something worthwhile for a change. At this point, though, the best he could do was pray.

As he faced the door to Magneto's office, he closed his eyes and put off the inevitable for a moment longer. "Luck be a lady t'night," he implored, then brought his head up.

With one final assurance that he had to do this, Remy reached for the door handle.


	15. She's Baack

atA/N: The end is in sight! Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the remaining chapters are numbered, and it has me motivated—so you can consider it either a good thing or a bad thing. Anyway, hope you like it!

Chapter 13

She's Ba-ack

Rogue turned up the volume on her cd player to drown out the incessant pounding at her door. She was in no mood to talk to anyone whatsoever, and that was a fact. She supposed that everyone probably thought that Magneto had done something unmentionably horrible, and that was why she had locked herself up in her room since she had gotten back last night. In fact, they couldn't be farther from the truth: she had wanted to _stay_ with Magneto until this whole thing with "EM" was over and done with.

But then, since when did anyone ever listen to what she had to say?

She had been taken off guard when Magneto had summoned her to his office only to find that she was to return to the X-men. She had protested quite violently to that idea, but in only a matter of minutes Logan had turned up to drag her back. She had attempted to make him see her point of view as well, and again her efforts had been in vain. All the way back to the mansion she argued with no results whatsoever. As a result, the instant the van had stopped moving she had gone straight to her room and locked the door.

Normally a locked door would have little effect on either her roommate or her foster brother, but what that hadn't accomplished, her sharp tongue had. If she had been in a better mood, she might have wondered where Kitty would have to spend the night, but at that point in time she couldn't have cared less.

The important thing was to figure out how to return. She had stayed up late all night trying to figure out how to accomplish this feat, and now that she had a solution, all she wanted to do was relax.

Unfortunately, whoever it was at her door did not seem to understand this fact.

"Go away, _go away,_ **_go away_**!" she hissed, voice escalating with each repetition until she reached a nice comfortable yell.

"Rogue, I know you don't want to talk right now," a voice said, causing Rogue to wonder why she could hear it over her music until she realized that it was in her head. "But can you just hear me out?"

The southerner sighed frustratedly and forced herself away from her nice, comfortable bed to go open the door.

"Five minutes, Jean," she grated out. "Five minutes to say whatever it is you want to and leave me the heck alone."

The red-headed telepath stepped inside and closed the door. Much to Rogue's surprise, she wasn't her usual perky self; it almost looked as though something was troubling her. Rogue almost snorted. This would probably be some touchy-feely attempt at an apology because Jean felt that she was to blame for Rogue's unhappiness. And sure enough—

"Look, I'm really sorry. I know you were counting on me, and I blew it."

"Yeah, it's all your fault, you're a terrible person, Ah'll hate ya forever," she monotoned. "That what y'all were lookin' for?"

"Rogue…"

"Don't even start," the younger girl cautioned. "Sure, ya were the only one that knew for sure Ah didn't want ta come back, but it's not like ya told 'em ta go save me either. Ah mean, ya refused ta go on the rescue mission for Pete's sake! So y'all can cut it with the pity party."

Jean slumped against the door, looking guilty enough that Rogue almost considered feeling bad for her. "It's just—I can't help feeling that I could have done more."

Rogue rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well, ya didn't, so there's no use beatin' yourself up over it now, now is there?"

Surprisingly, the other girl laughed a little. "What a switch, huh? Usually I'm the one trying to cheer you up."

"Yeah, and it doesn't work that way around either." This comment elicited more laughter, and although Rogue had been entirely sincere in this comment and was a little affronted that Jean laugh at her honesty, she was more grateful that Jean was no longer moping quite so much.

"Anyway," the elder started, straightening up again but still not meeting her teammate's eyes, "I came here so I could make it up to you."

"And how exactly do ya intend ta do that?" Rogue inquired, skeptical that the girl she was conversing with could come up with something that would absolve her of her transgressions.

"Well, I probably shouldn't be doing this, but…" here Jean brought her head up, and as their eyes locked Rogue noticed an uncharacteristic amount of mischief in the other girl's gaze, "I can cover for you for the rest of the day, maybe into tomorrow, too."

"Cover for…" The meaning of the words clicked into place, and Rogue's mouth fell open in utter shock. "Are you tellin' me what Ah think you're tellin' me?"

"Think it'll give you enough of a head start?"

Rogue grinned for the first time since she had been dragged home the previous night.

"Sugah, if it ain't, Ah don't deserve ta be called Rogue."

Thankfully Rogue had prepared her things already for her own attempt at an escape, so now that she was going by another plan she was able to get out of the Institute in a matter of minutes. Another twenty minutes by foot found her punching in the entrance codes at the door to the Acolyte home base, and in another five she had flopped gracelessly onto the bed of the room she had previously been issued.

She supposed that the rest of the X-men would undoubtedly be upset at finding her missing once again, but she had instructed Jean to inform the others that she had gone back of her own volition if it came to the threat of another rescue mission. Despite the trouble she would almost certainly be in for having helped Rogue go, Jean had accepted this without protest or offering a different solution. The southerner was beginning to rethink her previous assessment of the telekinetic—she wasn't all that bad after all, even if she did have an annoying preppy streak.

As for Magneto and what his reaction would be…well, she didn't think he'd object to a little extra help, and if he did she would be certain to set him straight. There was no way that she would quit fighting this battle halfway in; she would see it to the end, no matter what happened.

Unless, of course, she found out that everything he had told her was a lie. She wouldn't put it past him, and with her history she didn't think that she'd be surprised in the slightest if that were the case.

For the moment, though, she would be content just to catch up on the sleep she had missed the night prior—apparently sleep she had missed in vain, considering that she had never even needed to use the strategy she had spent the night formulating.

Again as she drifted off to sleep she contemplated the fact that the advantages to being a villain really tempted a girl to switch sides…for one thing that bed felt more comfortable than any she'd ever slept in…but then again, that was probably because she was so tired. She shrugged it off and snuggled down even further into the mattress. Whatever it was about it, it certainly felt good.

"Rise 'n shine, sleepin' beauty!"

The voice jolted her out of a very pleasant dream that was already fading. Almost before she had opened her eyes she had one glove halfway off and the owner of the voice pinned to the floor, instinct having taken over in her moment of disorientation. Even as she was poised to knock his lights out, Rogue realized where she was and what she was doing there.

"Easy there, sheila," the man she had tackled managed nervously. Pyro looked very frightened to find himself in his current position, and Rogue bit back a smirk. Apparently the Aussie had learned his lesson in their practice bouts. She pulled her glove all the way back on and pulled herself off of him, brushing the wrinkles out of her clothing.

"A word of advice," she drawled as the man scrambled to his feet. "Never wake a gal while she's tryin' ta get her beauty sleep."

"Dunno, _chere_, if dat's de kind o' 'good mornin' y'give an _homme_, Remy's tempted t'give it a try himself." Rogue froze where she was standing and prayed that she had not just heard what she thought she had. Slowly, ever so slowly, she brought her gaze to where, just as he had last evening, Remy LeBeau leaned on the doorframe with that infuriating smirk of his.

A moment of confusion ensued. Gambit had gone straight to Magneto after their conversation, she was sure of it; that was undoubtedly why she had been dragged back with the X-men. So if Magneto hadn't handed him over to EM the moment he saw him, as she had been under the impression he would, then what was going on here?

"What the hell is going on here?" she demanded, putting voice to her thoughts.

For once, Remy didn't beat around the bush. Instead he made a disgusted face, and informed her "Dear ol' Magsy seems t' t'ink Remy's more useful to him here dan doin' what he came here t' do."

Rogue furrowed her eyebrows, both at the content of the thief's speech as well as the vagueness of it. Why on earth would he find it necessary to be so…

"Wait a moment there, mate," Pyro interjected, and it began to make sense. For some reason, Remy didn't want the fire-lover to know exactly what was going on. "What was it y' came 'ere to do, again?"

"Well, Remy came _here_ t' have a moment alone wit' de lovely lady," was the drawled response, at which Rogue felt obliged to shoot the man a glare. Not that it was a real hardship. "But seein' as y're intent on havin' a wrestlin' match wit' her, he'll just come back when y're done bein' trounced…"

It was all she could do not to smirk at the panicked expression on St. John's face; she had done well in training him to fear her physical prowess. "No, mate, that's quite all right, you go on ahead, I'll just…go over here…" And with that he had backed out of the room in sheer terror. Remy closed the door securely before the Aussie could reconsider his retreat or think of something to come back for. The pair remaining inside the room shared a look, Rogue rolling her eyes dramatically at Pyro's antics. Of course, though, they had more important things to discuss.

"So what's the deal?" she asked, less abrasively now that she'd had time enough to wake up and realize that this avid flirt was not there of his own free will, no matter how annoying he happened to be. "And why don't you want the firebug knowing?"

Gambit moved to sit on her bed nonchalantly. "Remy figures dat if Mags hasn't told him yet, dere be a good reason," was the answer. At the scowl that indicated that this reason wasn't good enough for her, he continued, " 'Sides, you ever seen Johnny-boy when he's excited 'bout somt'in'? De sight be kind o' scary, an' it don't do no one any good."

Rogue nodded slowly; having experienced Pyro at emotional extremes, this made more sense than simply accepting what Magneto said out of principle. "Ah guess Ah can accept that, but that still doesn't answer my first question."

"Ah. Well, dat's where t'ings get a little more complicated," the man drawled. "Why don't y' take a seat, _chere_? Y' gonna get tired just standin' dere de whole conversation."

Rogue complied cautiously, sitting on the opposite end of the bed from the Swamp Rat. She didn't say a word; she let her icy gaze do the talking for her.

"All right, all right, Remy gets de picture," Remy exclaimed, throwing up his hands comically in mock defeat. "He'll start talkin'."

Without warning, all the humor left his face, and Rogue found herself looking at an eerily serious Gambit. She could count on one hand the number of times she'd seen him throw away his flippant demeanor. It was almost creepy, how quickly he could switch from mood to mood, and made her wonder what really went on in his mind all the time that he kept up that glib appearance. That, though, was a question for another day.

"De story Mags tol' me isn't square wit' de one he tol' you," he stated bluntly. Rogue felt her shoulders tense and her eyes narrow. She should have known. She should have known that Magneto wouldn't have been honest with her. Either that, or he hadn't been honest with Remy; and either way, that man was going to pay through the teeth. She made a mental note of that as her companion of the moment continued his explanation.

"Accordin' t' Buckethead, 'm not de one spreadin' de epidemic," he went on with a sour look. "Seems our friend EM was lyin' 'bout dat. But if I get handed over, he'll still stop de t'ing."

Without warning, Gambit punched the mattress in anger. "An' he won't let me do anyt'ing! 'M stuck here while hundreds o' innocent people're dyin', all 'cause I t'ought I was playin' hero!"

Rogue ignored the astonishment that she felt at Remy's sudden outburst, and focused on the facts. "Why's it feel like Ah'm missin' somthin'?" she queried hesitantly, not wanting to frustrate the Cajun further, but also not wanting to be left in the dark—especially not about something as potentially important as this.

Remy took a deep breath, and glanced up at her somewhat apologetically. "De germ dat's out right now? 'S just a prototype." The southern girl nodded in affirmation; that much, at least, corresponded with what Magneto had told her. At her affirmation, Remy fixed his gaze on some indiscernible point on the floor between his feet. "See, I got a little suspicious 'bout what Mags was doin', so I decided t' do a little investigatin' of m'own. Now, Mags tol' you already what I found out 'bout EM and de disease an' all dat." Another deep breath.

"Well, dat didn't sit too good wit' me, so I decided I might as well do somet'in' 'bout it. So I t'ought if I maybe pinched a t'ing or two of EM's, it'd keep him from doin' not'in' too bad. Turns out I grabbed de only vial of de fully developed bug, an' EM wasn't any too happy 'bout it. Set de prototype loose t' blackmail me into givin' it back."

That infuriating Cajun smiled more sadly than he had any business to, enough to make her almost feel sorry for him. "Guess guys like me aren't cut out t' be heroes."

Now that was the last straw. Why was it that he had to be so pathetically guilty? It was worse than Jean had been, if only because he actually had a reason to feel it and had actually managed to make her feel sympathetic about it. Awkwardly, hesitantly, Rogue reached out her gloved hand and put it on his knee. His head shot up, and he met her eyes with unconcealed surprise.

"Hey, don't take it too hard, Swamp Rat," she instructed. Why did she find herself giving so many unprompted and unprecedented pep talks all of a sudden? It wasn't something she _did_, but there she was doing it. "Ya thought you were doin' the right thing. Ya couldn't know what EM was gonna do."

"But I could be doin' somet'ing _now_, now I can fix t'ings, 'stead o' sittin' on m' ass twiddlin' m' thumbs," he protested, his red eyes burning with the need to take action. Somehow Rogue got the impression that he would do just about anything to remedy this mistake that he'd made.

"An' ya think handin' over the developed formula's gonna make things better?" she demanded. "Whaddya think the man wants the stupid thing for, ta flush it down the toilet? He's just gonna set that loose instead! The way Ah see it, we're screwed either way, so ya might as well waste your energy tryin' to beat the racist creep instead a' tryin' to help him by givin' him what he wants."

And the smirk was back. "Why, _chere_, Remy didn't know y' cared." Apparently so was the speech in the third-person.

"Who said Ah did?" Rogue wanted to know, moving to retract her hand but finding it captured in Remy's. "Ah just wanna show that son of a gun that he ain't gonna walk all over me an' my friends so easy as he thinks he can."

"An' does Remy count as one o' dose friends?" he returned, his maddening grin growing that much more as he scooted closer on the bed.

"Y'all've got a lotta nerve," the Mississippi girl told him irritably, attempting to yank her hand from his grasp and finding his grip unyielding. She'd known it would be trouble to be sympathetic, but had she listened to reason? Of course not. "And will ya give me my hand back?"

"Ah, but she avoids de question," Remy pointed out to no one in particular a tad too smugly for Rogue's liking. "Remy t'inks y' like him more dan y' want t' let on." His face became a caricature of compassion. "'S all right, _chere_, Remy won't let y'r love go unrequited."

Rogue rolled her eyes in frustration, and continued trying to free her hand. "Y'all think way too highly of yourself. In case ya hadn't noticed, findin' a boyfriend ain't exactly my top priority, and if it was, Ah sure as hell wouldn't be lookin' at you. Will you just let go already?" She emphasized this last statement with a particularly violent tug, and to her surprise, she found herself released and falling backwards with the momentum from her attempt.

"What'd ya do that for?" she snapped, sitting up and rubbing the shoulder she had hit on the footboard.

"Remy just did what y' told him," Gambit replied placidly, eyebrows raised. "Course, he can always take it back if y' didn't want him to let it go after all…"

"Ah'll hafta pass on that," she grumbled, still rubbing her shoulder grumpily. That had _hurt_, darn it, even if she was glad to have her hand back.

"Y' know your problem, _chere_?" he asked.

"An annoying, arrogant swamp rat that doesn't know when to quit?" she tried, although somehow she got the feeling that he wouldn't get the point.

"Y're too uptight." As predicted, he completely ignored the fact that she had said anything at all. "Y' need t' loosen up. Live a little."

"And what do you suggest? A tattoo? Gettin' drunk on Petey's secret stash of vodka?"

"_Non_," he quipped blithely, "although dat last don't seem too bad. _Non_, y' need t' relax. De whole world ain't out t' get y', y' know." Rogue snorted at that, but still he continued. "Give Remy a chance. Y' might like him better'n y' t'ink."

"How, exactly, is goin' out with you gonna help me relax?" Rogue was honestly confused here. She had no doubt that his twisted logic made perfect sense to him, but he'd have to clarify if he wanted her to buy it. Not that she would anyway.

"Well, it's simple," Gambit informed her, inching ever closer to her. She, in response, pressed herself as close to the bed-frame as she could. "Remy's an easygoin' _homme_, and y' need someone dat can help y' not t' take everyt'ing so serious."

"Uh-huh." She was still skeptical, and although she wouldn't exactly _mind_ going out with him…it just wasn't something that she was going to do. Because, like she'd said, he was just too annoying and arrogant. And he was an Acolyte. "And how exactly do you plan on doin' that?"

"Remy has his ways," he replied, waving his hand in an airy manner that she couldn't help but snicker at. He grinned in response to her laughter. "Y' see? He's already got y' laughin'."

"That doesn't prove anythin', you know," she pointed out, still smiling faintly.

"_Non_," he agreed, suddenly more serious and a lot closer than she remembered him being, "but y' haven't said 'no' yet, neither."

Oh God. His eyes were locked on hers. He was getting closer. Oh God. He was going to try to kiss her. Oh God. The last traces of the smile were gone, and she could feel her breath speeding up in spite of her. A treacherous part of her wanted this to happen…but this was Remy LeBeau. Gambit. He was infuriating and not trustworthy and an Acolyte. She couldn't kiss him. And not just because of her emotional well-being; if he kissed her, she would absorb him, and she couldn't deal with that. Not at all.

Rogue wrenched her eyes away from that intoxicating gaze of his and ducked away at the last moment. She stood with her back to him, arms wrapped around herself. "Sorry, Remy," she told him, trying to pretend that nothing out of the ordinary had just happened, "but Ah don't think either of us would appreciate you bein' unconscious for the next God knows how long."

She could almost feel him stand up, and she certainly did feel it when he put a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off and looked up at him, fixing that ever reliable glare in place. "And don't you go tryin' anythin' like that again, ya hear?"

"_Mais oui_," he consented, then he too reverted to the expression she found most often on his face: the smirk. "But if y' ever reconsider, just let Remy know, _hein_? Might be worth gettin' knocked out t' kiss a _belle femme_ like y' self."

Rogue snorted, although a little surprised at the sentiment. "An' have ya runnin' around in my head? Ah'd prefer not. Now scat, before ya do somethin' ta _really_ irritate me."

Remy's smirk widened to a grin, but his only response was to comply with her command, making his way to the door. He hesitated a moment as he opened the door, and turned slightly, his face sincere once more.

"An' Rogue? T'anks. For everyt'ing."

Before she could come up with an adequate reply to that, he was gone, and the door was closed, leaving a very confused Rogue to puzzle out what exactly had just happened.


	16. The Truth is Out There

A/N: Sorry for taking so long...Y'all can give a big thank you to Benched, without whose enthusiastic support I probably wouldn't have been motivated to finish this chapter. And no worries—I've vowed to finish this story before 2008, and there're only about three more installments left, so I should actually make it. Wish me luck, and enjoy!

Chapter 14

The Truth is Out There

Kitty was starting to become very frustrated. She could understand where Rogue would want to be by herself after going through what she had, and she totally respected that. But not being able to go into her room because Rogue was inexplicably angry at her was a little overkill, and it was starting to drive her crazy.

According to Jean, the Mississippi girl just needed a little time to sort things out and recover emotionally. The best thing that she could do to help, Jean had told her, was to leave Rogue alone for a day or two. The redhead had even offered to share her own room and wardrobe until Kitty was able to go back to her own. But as generous as that offer was, the whole situation was really getting on her nerves. She hadn't even been able to talk to her roommate once since the return of the rescue party. The closest she had come was being yelled at to get out, and that hardly counted. So in spite of Jean's advice, the evening after Rogue had been recovered Shadowcat resolved to find out what was wrong.

Kitty approached the door to their room with some apprehension. She really didn't look forward to being yelled at again, but this was something that she had to both for herself and as a friend. After all, Rogue didn't deserve to be suffering alone, even if she preferred it that way. She resolved to withstand any and all yelling, at least until she had made her point clear and had been given a good reason why she should not be allowed in her room until Rogue was feeling better.

The petite girl took a deep breath as she stared at the door and squared her shoulders. She decided that she wouldn't even bother knocking; Rogue would doubtless tell her to get lost, and her refusing to listen would only serve to make the other girl even more angry. She barely hesitated as she walked up to and through the locked door, and the instant she was solid again started talking.

"Look Rogue," she began quickly in hopes of cutting Rogue off before she could argue, "I'm sorry to come in here like this and all but I just wanted you to know that you totally don't have to—"

Shadowcat stopped abruptly as she realized that she was talking to dead air. She looked around her in confusion; surely the other girl had to be around here somewhere, because someone would have said something if she had left.

Unless no one knew that she had left.

Kitty's eyes widened in realization. She stayed stock-still for a moment before turning to run in the direction she had come from. Only phasing saved her from running into several stationary objects in her haste, but it was more by instinct than conscious effort that she employed her power. Her thoughts were focused around finding someone, anyone, to tell as soon as possible. Goodness only knew where Rogue was or what she was doing right now, but she was willing to bet that it was not something good.

In her state of semi-panic, the Illinois girl almost didn't realize it when she found herself running full-tilt at Jean Grey. Of course she had her phasing to fall back on, but when she slid to a halt in front of the older girl it was still uncomfortably close.

"Ohmygod Jean thank goodness I found you I—" she blurted, but was cut off by Jean's hand on her shoulder.

"Whoa, calm down," she instructed as Kitty took the opportunity to catch her breath. "Now, more slowly. What's the matter?"

"Rogue's missing!" she exclaimed, her distress evident in her voice. She was surprised, however, that Jean's only reaction was to furrow her eyebrows and look around the hallway, almost as if checking to see that no one had heard. Then she let out a tired sigh.

"Kitty, can you come with me?" Did Shadowcat have any other choice? She was beginning to get the distinct impression that she was missing something very important, and that was more than a little concerning.

Kitty followed Jean to her room, where the door was shut tightly.

"Before I say anything, you have to promise me that you won't tell a soul," the telepath demanded, fixing Kitty with a relentless stare.

"Jeez, I get the point, top secret info here," she replied, putting her hands on her hips. "Now are you gonna tell me where Rogue is or not?"

Jean sighed again. "She went back to Magneto."

"She WHAT?" Kitty exclaimed, shocked beyond belief. Out of all the places that she thought that Rogue might have gone, back to Magneto was not one of them.

"Not so loud!" The older girl instructed, glancing around worriedly as though she could tell if someone overheard.

"Why would she _do_ something like that?" Shadowcat asked, albeit more quietly. Jean sank onto her bed, and motioned that Kitty should sit in the chair near at hand.

"Apparently Magneto's one of the good guys this time," Jean answered. "I don't have all the details, but from what Rogue told me, there's this scientist he's fighting that's trying to destroy the mutant population. She thinks that she can help."

"So why didn't she tell the Professor?" Kitty wanted to know, for the moment accepting the existence of this villain. It did, after all, sound like something Rogue would do.

"She seemed convinced that he wouldn't listen," was the explanation that she was offered. "And that's the other problem. We've been trying to keep this from most of the students, but…Kitty, the Professor's sick. I tried to talk to him, but Mr. McCoy's trying to keep him quarantined until he can find out what's wrong with him."

The two of them sat in silence as this information sunk in. It seemed surreal…the Professor had always seemed superhuman, beyond getting sick. For him to be ill enough to be put under quarantine, something must be very wrong.

There was nothing she could do about the Professor, though, and she most certainly could do something about Rogue. If there really was a threat to mutants everywhere, then…

"We have to help her," Kitty declared matter-of-factly. Jean looked up at her in surprise, and she continued, "I mean, it's what the Professor would do, right? And we can't just, like, leave her alone with all those Acolytes."

Jean was nodding slowly in agreement. "We should bring Scott and Kurt."

"Right. I'll talk to Kurt, you can take care of Scott. We should probably, like, stay out of the way of the teachers. They'd totally try and stop us."

"You're probably right," the telepath agreed. "Meet you in the garage in half an hour. Bring your uniform, but don't wear it. That would look too suspicious."

"Got it." With grim determination, Kitty set out to look for Kurt.

Convincing Nightcrawler was every bit as simple as Kitty had thought that it would be. He was more than happy to have a chance to help his foster-sister, no matter that it would be helping Magneto too. He had been a little bit hesitant at first to trust that there was actually a threat, but agreed quickly after being reminded that Rogue wouldn't be siding with the Acolytes unless she thought that it was absolutely necessary.

Jean, it seemed, had had considerably less luck. When their paths crossed outside the door to the garage, the telepath was positively irate—and Scottless. Simply the expression on her face was enough to keep Kitty from bothering with her, and Kurt wisely chose to follow her example.

In short order it was agreed that they would use Jean's own car—its absence would be slightly less conspicuous. This being decided, they made their way across the vast garage in silence, too tense to make conversation until they were off the Professor's property.

Jean was just unlocking the doors when they realized that they weren't alone in the garage.

"And just where do you think you kids are goin'?" Horrified, the three of them turned to look at the speaker, although there really wasn't any doubt as to who it was. There, leaning up against the all-purpose X-van, stood Wolverine.

They were screwed.

"Um…to the…mall?" Kitty squeaked out, still feeling the need to try. Not that her effort was very convincing; under Logan's surly glare, what was intended to be a statement came out as a question.

Logan snorted. "The heck you are. You're goin' wherever Stripes went."

The three teenagers exchanged a sheepish glance, then Jean squared her shoulders and looked at the older mutant steadily. "Yes, we are. And we're going to keep trying whether you stop us or not."

Kitty was almost positive that they were doomed to extra Danger Room sessions with Logan for the rest of their lives. Somehow, it was worth it.

Much to her surprise—a surprise shared by her teammates, by the looks on their faces—Logan smirked. "What, and let you have all the fun? I ain't had a nice brawl in way too long."

Unsure of what was going on, the teenagers watched as Wolverine opened the door to the van and started the engine.

"You comin' or what?" he demanded of the motionless group still staring at him. Kitty shook herself out of her surprised daze and phased into the van. Whatever was going on, she was going to take advantage of it.

On the ride to Magneto's secret base—which, as it happened, wasn't so secret anymore—they filled Logan in on the details, or what they knew of them. Kitty left that to Jean for the most part.

As it happened, Logan had been under the impression that this was an ill-prepared rescue attempt. Nevertheless, he was still more than willing to give his assistance having learned what they were really doing—given that Magneto could make a convincing argument concerning the threat that this "evil scientist" posed. To Kitty, this seemed more than fair, especially considering the fact that all of them were wanting for details as to what it was that they were going to be fighting.

Surprisingly enough, they were not assailed as they walked up to the base. They had decided that if they were going to be working with Magneto, it would probably be best to approach him openly. Truth be told, Kitty had half suspected that the instant they set foot on Acolyte property some minion would leap out of hiding to try to keep them from going any farther, but no such minion appeared. In all actuality, there was no sign of any inhabitance at all even after they had reached the door.

Logan, of course, quickly took charge of the situation. Banging on the door as only a man with an adamantium skeleton could, he began yelling. "Listen up, bub, we're talkin' to ya whether ya let us in or not, so ya might as well keep your door on its hinges and come out here yourself!"

"Should ve really be threatening him?" Kurt muttered in her direction even as the door began to open.

Kitty shrugged. "Well, it worked, didn't it?" she whispered back before the imposing figure behind the door could speak.

"Wolverine," Magneto greeted, "to what do we owe this pleasure?"

Kitty was somewhat offended that she and her other two teammates did not merit acknowledgement, but there were other things to be concerned with at the moment.

"Seems you've got Stripes on your side," Logan drawled nonchalantly. "Now, me, I could care less about you and your Acolytes, but if Rogue's convinced she's got a good reason to be helpin' ya, I'm willin' ta listen, so you'd better start convincin' bub, because if she's wrong you're in a world of hurt."

Magneto, to his credit, took all of this in stride, but Kitty fancied that she saw his eyes widen the slightest bit in surprise that they weren't there to drag Rogue back kicking and screaming.

"By all means, then," he said, the picture of courtesy, "come in."

Kitty tried to pay attention as they were led through the halls of the base, but as just as she had noticed when they had tried to rescue Rogue, everything looked the same. It was almost impossible to keep track of the number of corridors they went through, the concrete walls and strong metal doors all blurring together until it seemed that the whole building was one giant hallway. It was a wonder, Kitty marveled, that anyone could stay sane in such an oppressing environment.

But then, she considered, glancing at their guide, who was to say that the people here were sane?

After what seemed like hours traipsing tensely through the monotonous passageways (although Kitty was aware that considering the size of the building that they were in it could only have been a few minutes) Magneto opened the door to what seemed to be an office. It was somewhat of a surprise to see a room that was so commonplace after the rest of the base, but it was also a welcome relief to realize that it was only the corridors that were stripped to the fundamentals.

"Please, have a seat," they were invited, and somehow Kitty wasn't surprised that there were exactly four seats on their side of their erstwhile enemy's desk. The chairs were more comfortable than she had expected.

Of course, they would probably have to be. Kitty had the feeling that they would be sitting in them for some time.

As they were escorted to the living quarters on the second floor, Shadowcat's mind reeled with the material of the discussion that had been held within Magneto's office. She wished that none of it was true, that there was _not_ some manmade virus running rampant through the population of Bayville (maybe the rest of the country), that there wasn't a man so sick as to set something like that loose on innocent people, that Rogue had simply been conned into believing it—but doubt was the easy way out. Besides that, Logan had questioned Magneto to the point that doing anything but wanting to help with the situation was out of the question.

A thought crossed Kitty's mind, and it was all that she could do to keep following the others.

"Kurt!" she hissed urgently, and he fell back from the rest of the group.

"Ja?" He asked curiously. "Vhat's up?"

"Not so loud!" she whispered, glancing up to see if any of the older mutants had heard him. It seemed that the rest of them were too immersed in their own thoughts to pay much attention to her and the fuzzy one, but she didn't want to take a risk. Not that she was going to talk about anything bad, or anything; it was just one of those moments that the feeling that she had to whisper against all reason was overwhelming.

"You know how I said that Jean said that the Professor is like really sick and Mr. McCoy wants to keep him quarantined and everything?" she wanted to know.

"Ja, but why…" Kurt stopped in his tracks, and in spite of his blue fur Kitty could have sworn that he grew a few shades paler. "You don't szink zhat…?"

"What if what the Professor has is that SPD or whatever it's called?" she finished the thought for him, although she understood his reluctance in voicing the theory. Saying it out loud felt like she was making it true, like she was sentencing their mentor to death. Suddenly her stomach felt like lead.

"Mein Gott…" Kurt breathed, stunned, looking for all the world like Kitty felt. Belatedly she remembered that they were supposed to be following Magneto, and that there was no way that they were going to be able to find their way to where they were going otherwise.

"Come on," she urged in a tone a little louder than their previous conversation had been held in. "We'd better catch up or we're gonna be, like, so totally lost it's not even funny."

"You're right," Kurt agreed, but his mind looked miles away.

Shadowcat couldn't blame him. She'd had enough to think about before she'd realized that the Professor was quite possibly going to die of a disease that only one very evil person knew the cure to. With that on top of everything else, she seriously doubted that she would be able to sleep until they caught that monster and made very sure he couldn't ever hurt anyone again.

Kitty didn't usually deliberate on the merits of homicide, but when she did, it was best to keep out of her way.


	17. Pinch Me: I Wish I Was Dreaming

A/N: I'm warning you right now that this chapter has some stronger language, but you can't dilute Logan. And yay for updating—we're at the exciting part, so I couldn't stop!

Chapter 15

Pinch Me...I Wish I Was Dreaming

It truly was something else to see Rogue's expression when she realized that the X-men had returned. The first look, Logan figured, was one of dread that she would be forced to leave again; the second determination that she would not let them win; and the third, the most amusing in his opinion, shock as Magneto nodded to affirm that they had reached their destination and simply left them there.

Logan took a cursory scan of the room, which was, judging by the sofas and television, presumably the "family" room. Upon their entrance, Rogue had sprung to her feet while her companion, Gambit, was currently rising at a more leisurely rate, fluidly as a cat. Wolverine guessed that the hallway leading off the room was to the living quarters, and seeing as Magneto had mentioned nothing about accommodations resolved that they would just have to see to them themselves.

Of course, this was all that he had time to take in before Rogue began her expected exclamations of shock. Logan didn't profess to understand teenaged girls (he couldn't even remember being a teenager himself, and he had a feeling that he'd never experience girlhood), but if he understood any of them, it was Rogue.

"What on God's green earth are y'all doin' here?" she demanded, seeming uncertain of what she should be feeling at their sudden appearance.

The Canadian smirked. "Nothin' to worry yourself over, Stripes. Red here filled us in on the situation, and we figured we'd bring some reinforcements."

"So wait…Ah'm not in trouble?" she asked, her face still suspicious. That was one of the things he liked about her: she wasn't too quick to trust anyone except herself. Might not be too good for her emotionally, but it sure was damned smart.

"Never said you weren't in trouble," he informed her more darkly. "You ain't gettin' off that easy."

"As if yah would've let me go if Ah'd told yah!" Rogue snapped. "Y'all wouldn't believe me when Ah said Ah didn't want to leave!"

"Maybe if you'd'a explained yourself, we woulda helped," Logan growled, growing more irritated by the second. "We may not be quick to trust old iron-breath here, but we ain't stupid either."

"And maybe if Ah'd've explained mahself y'all woulda made sure to stop me!" she exclaimed, and he could smell the anger radiating from her like heat from a fire.

"That ain't no excuse to go runnin' off without telling anyone!" Wolverine rejoined, trying his best to keep from losing his temper. What had she been thinking, just vanishing like that? Never mind that it was justified, because there was no way that he would've kept her from going after that bastard EM once he understood what was going on. As it was, he'd been _this close_ to calling a full-scale attack on Magneto just because he _might_ have had something to do with her second disappearance.

"_Excuse moi_," someone interjected, and Logan trained his glare on the Cajun standing a little too closely to Stripes for him to feel good about it, "but Remy would like to take dis opportunity to point out dat dere might be some more important t'ings t'do dan punishin' _chere_ for doin' de right t'ing."

Who did that Cajun think he was, just butting in on something that wasn't his business with his French and his sleazy suaveness and his over-familiarity with Rogue? Logan didn't like that one bit, and opened his mouth to say as much when—

"He's right, Logan," Jean piped up, to which he crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at her as if to dare her to keep talking. "And if you're going to yell at her, you might as well yell at me too, since I helped her."

"Like, seriously, Mr. Logan," Kitty added (he was always somewhat amused at the obligatory "Mr." she attached to his name) "We're all here and no one's, like, mortally wounded or whatever, so what's the big deal?"

"I vant to at least know vhere ve're supposed to be staying before ve start a shouting match," was Kurt's contribution to the discussion.

Logan briefly locked gazes with Rogue, who raised her eyebrows innocently as if to say (with a touch of that Southern sarcasm) "Now really, Logan, I wouldn't dream of undermining your authority any further by adding my two cents, but I am quite interested to see how you react to this and dare you to keep yelling at me."

Yeah, if there was any teenaged girl he understood, it was her.

He was outnumbered. He hated to concede defeat, particularly considering how irritated he still was about Rogue's Houdini act, and especially since he was loath to let the teenagers be deluded into thinking that this was a democracy in which they could dictate his actions, but you had to pick your battles. In this case it was a lost cause, and in the long run this one was insignificant.

He gave Rogue a look that told her "this isn't over," then turned his attention to the rest of the group. "I ever catch any of you even _dreaming_ of pulling that stunt, it's extra Danger Room sessions for a year, got that?" The younger mutants looked somewhat disquieted, with which he decided to be satisfied. "Now Cajun," he rumbled, only partially intending to intimidate, "You gonna show us our rooms or what?"

"Right dis way, _monsieur_."

Things fell into a bit of a routine. The day after they arrived at Magneto's base, it occurred to Logan to inform Hank and Ororo that he had taken the students with him on a trip for a little extra experience in strategy and battle tactics and that there was nothing to worry about. He knew (as a result of incessant bullying and interrogation on his part and a surprising amount of cooperation on Magneto's) exactly what the threat was if Xavier were to find out the truth about what was going on, and he wasn't about to take that risk. The less concerned the people at the Institute, the better.

Mornings Logan spent in physical training, not even giving his students the option of not participating; they had no idea what fighting EM would entail, and they weren't going to get out of shape waiting. He was glad to notice that the Acolytes took physical fitness seriously as well, and it was surprising to see how comfortable Rogue was both sparring with them and working with them. The three that showed up, anyway; Logan could smell Sabertooth all over the base, but had yet to see hide or hair of him. He figured Magneto'd told him that he couldn't be picking fights with him, so he was either pouting or avoiding him to avoid temptation.

Afternoons he spent with Erik Lensherr. Although he did not find quality time with the maniac enjoyable in any sense of the word, it was necessary. He wouldn't just sit around in the dark waiting to be told what to do; he would know what was going on and make sure that Magneto knew what he thought they should do about it.

It was after about a week of these meetings (a week in which Elf and Half-pint had become very anxious to be doing something productive, and although the others weren't quite so obvious about it, it was plain that everyone was tired of sitting on their asses with thumbs up their noses) that they finally agreed on a plan of action. They had looked at the situation from every angle and, much to Logan's liking, it seemed that the best way to go about this was to face EM head-on.

Both X-men and Acolytes alike were quite pleased to hear that even as they sat around doing very little worthwhile a plan was in the works for an infiltration of EM's lab. The renewed energy in which they practiced was gratifying, and Logan for his part couldn't wait until they were out of that place.

It wasn't that he particularly minded going up against monstrosities like EM, but the circumstances were less than pleasing. For one thing, Magneto's "secret" base was starting to give him a claustrophobia that, combined with a growing cabin fever, was becoming unbearable.

For another thing, he didn't like the idea of getting to familiar with Magneto and his cronies. He hardly relished being under command of one of the greatest enemies to Chuck's ideals, and the company was less than stellar. What he particularly disliked was how comfortable everyone seemed to be getting with the Acolytes.

Although it was obvious that the crazy Australian was not favored company, the Cajun and the Russkie were endearing themselves a little too much for comfort to his students. Particularly Rogue; when she was with the big one (Pete, was it?) he noticed an openness that he rarely saw her display, and she didn't seem too inclined to discourage that sleazy swamp rat's advances. He could only imagine what effect _that_ would have on her the next time Magneto decided to turn villain and dragged his toadies along with him, even if she didn't end up getting hurt by Gumbo himself.

And the longer they stayed, the higher the risk that the other students would end up with the same emotional attachment (he already saw Kitty looking at Pete with appreciative eyes). While he firmly believed in the old adage "keep your friends close, but your enemies closer," he wasn't sure that this was what whoever wrote it had in mind.

So Logan did his best to hurry along the planning. They knew the location of the lab, and its defense system. They had a rough idea of the lab's layout and where to find what they were looking for: the cure. Because their plan was that simple: get in, get the cure, get out. If they had to, they would find EM and interrogate him; it was as a result of this that they would be bringing so many with them. They knew that they would need numbers to find the man quickly, and to get past his guards.

At long last, both Magneto and Wolverine dubbed their plan as good as it was going to get. Despite the small complication of the infection of John Allerdyce and Victor Creed, which Erik was shocked (well, as shocked as he got) to discover the night before they intended to launch their invasion, they decided to continue as planned.

So it was that a week and a half after Wolverine and his fellow X-men arrived to assist their long-standing enemies, they set out to kick EM's ass. (or, you know, at least kick the _disease_'s ass)

Wolverine squinted through the dark to examine the entrance to the laboratory carefully. The place didn't stick out at all, didn't seem like the central building to a genocidal villain's plan—but then, if it had, he doubted that EM would have been undiscovered for this long.

Wolverine and his team—Jean, Colossus, and Shadowcat—had entered the guarded property by way of Shadowcat's phasing them into a truck passing through the gate. He imagined that Magneto's team, which was to enter from the other side of the building, would gain entrance through some combination of Magneto's and Nightcrawler's powers. It had been agreed that not only would it be far less conspicuous if they split up their force, but they would cover far more ground. Wolverine was still somewhat uneasy in trusting Kurt and Rogue with Erik Lensherr of all people, but he figured that if this operation was to be successful then he would have to put aside his enmity for the moment.

Before anything else could be done, however, they had to take care of the defense systems.

"Shadowcat," he rumbled, just loud enough to be heard, "you remember where the defense center is?" She nodded solemnly, all business. "All right. Get on that. If things start getting sticky in there, I want you to get out _right away_, got it?"

"Got it." With not a word more, she crept out into the darkness. As she passed through the wall of the building, Wolverine couldn't help beginning to worry. So much could go wrong…they really shouldn't be sending her in there to do this, but they had little choice. Not only was she better with technology than anyone he had ever met (and that was including Hank), but if she couldn't figure out how to shut down the surveillance and the security systems properly, a quick phase through the machinery would be enough to give it a short circuit. She was the best—perhaps only—person for the job.

It was a tense wait. Logan didn't feel right about letting Shadowcat go in there alone, with so much at risk. She was a student; moreover, she was _his_ student. She shouldn't have to take this responsibility on herself. She should be worrying about shopping and boys, not putting her life on the line. If something happened to her, it would be _his _fault; his fault for letting her do it, his fault for not preparing her better.

But one thing he did not do was doubt her abilities. She might be a little silly at times, but she was smart, and she was able, and she knew what to do. All of these kids were mature enough for anyone when the need came; he would trust any of them with his life. So while, when she reappeared after ten minutes to give them the all clear, he was immensely relieved to see her safe, he wasn't surprised in the slightest.

"Alright, troops," he said with a fierce grin, "let's get this show on the road."

While they no longer had to worry about cameras, Kitty had informed them that there were still a few scientists in the building, so the need for stealth was erased. Wolverine kept his enhanced senses on edge so that they would not needlessly encounter someone, but as it was there were a few close calls.

Logan had carefully studied the map of the facility before they had set off, and as a result of this had minimal trouble picking out their way to the area of the building that he and his unit had been assigned, one of three that they had decided would be likely to hold the cure.

The overly-clean smell made his nose burn slightly, and the steady hum of machinery in the background was like a laser through his mind. This, he thought as he tried his best to ignore these static sensations and pick out any abnormalities, was why he hated goddamn hospitals so much. And the bright white of the halls was nearly blinding under fluorescent lighting; he gritted his teeth and kept his eyes forward, remembering all the while what was at stake if he didn't concentrate on the task at hand.

The smell of perspiration coming from Colossus next to him was soothing, as was the aftershave of whatever scientist was within the room they had just passed. Wolverine trained his mind on these human smells and on the map in his mind. The squeaking of Shadowcat's shoes on the linoleum was overloud to his ears, even as Jean's rasping breaths and the scrape of her swishing hair against her cloth uniform were.

Wolverine took a few slow, deep breaths to keep from setting himself over the edge; he knew that he was making himself too tense. The sooner they were out of this place, the better. He wasn't about to stop straining his senses, not when there was still the possibility of encountering a hostile entity here, but it was not pleasant in the slightest.

There. This was the hallway, filled with rooms of the results of experiments conducted here.

"Right. We investigate the rooms individually," he growled in a low voice that the others had to strain to hear. "Find anything you think might be it, you let me know."

At the affirmation of the younger mutants, Logan turned to the first door on his right. With a snikt his adamantium claws burst from beneath his skin, and ignoring the brief but sharp pain in his hands he sliced through the lock. The door swung open easily, and he was greeted with a blast of air smelling of animal and something that made his skin crawl.

He entered the room, not realizing at first what it was. The walls were lined with cage upon cage of animals: this wall covered with rats, that with rabbits, and the far one with monkeys. Wolverine stepped into the room cautiously, looking about him with furrowed eyebrows.

There seemed to be a common trait that all of these animals shared: all were listless, limp. Certainly it was nighttime, but rabbits and rats were nocturnal, and it was not sleepiness that was claiming these creatures. They were all unnaturally thin, despite the plentiful food supplied in their cages, and something didn't seem right about the look in their eyes.

As he watched, one black and white rabbit made an effort to rise, legs scrabbling, but the moment it had gained a sitting position collapsed flaccidly, barely managing to lift its head to look longingly at the water dish not two steps away from it.

And Wolverine realized with a jolt of disgust and rage what exactly what he was witnessing here.

These wilted animals were the leftovers. They were the result of God knew how many of EM's perverse experiments, and had been left here to expire along with their usefulness. What he had smelled upon entering the room was illness and the advent of death.

Stomach roiling with emotion, Wolverine left the room to continue down the hallway. Door after door he opened upon similar scenes, although each slightly different. It appeared that the poor beasts had been classified according to the kind of ailment they were suffering. There was one room of animals that he would have thought rabid, viciously lunging at the bars to get to him. Yet another contained creatures that seemed perfectly healthy but for the vicious, oozing boils covering their bodies.

Every door opened upon more atrocities, and with each one his hate for the inhuman bastard responsible for them grew. At one point his path crossed with Shadowcat's. The girl looked as though she was going to throw up, and yet her eyes glittered with a ferocity that Logan had rarely seen in them. He suddenly recalled that the girl was a vegetarian and wondered what effect this was having on her.

But Kitty met his eyes and lifted her chin stubbornly, continuing to the next room without a backward glance.

He was doing a cursory inspection of a room containing rats, monkeys and rabbits through whose patchy fur the skin could be seen to be writhing when a sudden yell caught his attention. Logan stiffened, ears straining to pick up any noise but the animals', and swore as the muffled sounds of a struggle became clear to him.

Wolverine whirled towards the doorway, and stopped short as he saw that it was blocked by a number of imposing-looking men that were, judging by their lab coats, scientists. He dropped into a fighting crouch on instinct and brought his claws up, ready to attack or defend as the need arose.

"You guys gonna do this the easy way or the hard way?" he asked them in a growl, not bothering to stop the bestial grin pulling at his lips. Despite his worry for his younger counterparts, he was almost eager for an opportunity to vent some of his rage at those responsible for this brutality. And if these men actually held some of that responsibility, so much the better.

"What a strange coincidence," a sneering voice commented from behind the group of scientists. "I was about to ask you the same."

He didn't know how he knew, but the instant he heard the voice he was certain of its owner's identity.

"I ain't backin' down for no one," Wolverine snarled, displaying canines that seemed abnormally sharp, "'Specially not you, you sick fuckin' bastard!"

With that roar he launched himself into the gaggle of men blocking the doorway, clawing and punching in a desperate attempt to get at EM, but there were too many people. He was set upon from all sides; he received a blow to his stomach that would have caused a lesser man to black out, and a moment later he felt his claws enter soft flesh. He wrenched them free, then set about finding somewhere else to sheath them.

These scientists knew how to fight, perhaps why EM had chosen these to hide behind. He wasn't sure what caused the deep gash in his arm, but it healed quickly enough that he wasn't slowed by it for long. His leg was next; he felt his kneecap break as someone kicked it at the right angle. That one took longer to heal, but he shifted most of his weight to his other leg and tried to ignore it. His claws were drenched in blood, though how many people's he couldn't say.

The scientists seemed to be growing smart; they were trying to restrain his arms. He flexed his considerable arm muscle again and again, throwing off clinging hands and indifferent to any damage caused by his claws, but he was outnumbered by far. As it became more and more difficult to wrench away from his attackers he vaguely registered the sounds of the animals going crazy, stimulated by the fracas before them.

When they forced his hands into cuffs, he was still struggling. He strained his arms futilely, trying to free himself from the metal around his wrists, and ducked and dodged and kicked as the men around him tried to get a grip on him. He was gaining ground; he was almost past his opposition—

Wolverine had just barely caught a glimpse of the man he was sure was EM when he felt a stab in his arm. He snapped his head around to see a syringe emptying its contents into his bloodstream; almost immediately he felt lightheaded, and his vision grew hazy.

"You ain't winnin'!" Wolverine shouted in the direction he thought that EM was. "I'm the least of your problems, bub!"

"Ah, but on the contrary," the cold, oily voice informed him as if from a distance. "You see, I already have all your little _mutant_—" the word was spat like a curse "—friends taken care of. I assure you, we won't be experiencing any more trouble once you're taken care of."

There was a sinking feeling in his stomach that he wasn't at all sure was a result of the drugs which were growing stronger each second. Still, he couldn't let EM think that he had won…someone like EM couldn't be _allowed_ to win.

"You keep thinkin' that, bub," he growled, doing his best to sound coherent through the gauze that seemed to be enveloping his mind. "When you least expect it—that's when you're gonna wake up and find out we ain't there anymore, and neither is your cure." It was a struggle to get the words out; he could barely see anything, so deep were the clouds drifting in front of his eyes.

"My dear Wolverine," EM drawled, "Who _have_ you been talking to, to misinform you so? There _is_ no cure."

The words barely had time to register before Logan finally lost consciousness.


	18. Short Circuit

A/N: Here we are, nearly at the end. A lot happens in this, the penultimate chapter of my story, but I couldn't bring myself to shorten it, and somehow I don't think any of you will mind. I won't bore you with unnecessary blather, but kudos to anyone that can pick out whose appearance I modeled EM's after. And for the record, I'm not of the school that believes Remy has empathic powers, so any emotional response of Rogue's to him is purely her own. And my apologies if anyone's OOC.

Chapter 16

Short Circuit

Rogue wrenched her wrists against the manacles that held them, although she knew that her efforts would accomplish nothing. She couldn't just sit there without trying, and the pain of the metal digging into her skin helped to shake off the fog that was the residual effect of the drugs they had knocked her out with.

With a frustrated grunt she sat back against the wall, looking around the room for what seemed to be the millionth time in search of something, anything that would help her escape. To her right was the door, with no evident manner of opening it from within but a thick Plexiglas window. To her left, barely within her range of vision, her foster-brother slumped, still unconscious. Opposite her was Remy, his lanky form stretched incongruously. Occasionally he would groan slightly—in pain, if the blood on his clothing was any indication—but other than that, he, too, seemed decidedly insensible.

Both were bound as she was: hands stretched above their heads, secured by thick metal shackles that were bolted to the wall. She had seen more secure prisons for captive mutants, but it didn't look as though they would be getting out any time soon, in any case.

At least their binds were low enough that they could sit on the floor, she considered. And at least their legs were free, which was something that she was very happy for as she resituated herself to a (slightly) more comfortable position, legs folded under her.

A more forceful groan than she had grown used to called her attention to the captive across from her. Sure enough, Gambit seemed to be regaining consciousness. For all the animosity (albeit diminishing animosity) that she held for him, it came as a definite relief that he was emerging from his drugged sleep. She refused to attribute it to any growth of affection; the more people that were awake, the more minds could plan for an escape.

"Dat guy got one hell of a right hook for a science nerd," he muttered to himself, wincing as he attempted to straighten.

"An' he's got plenty worse in store for us if we don't figure a way outta here," Rogue remarked grimly, but couldn't help smirking a little when Remy's head jerked up in surprise.

"Gambit's eyes deceivin' him, or is dat really his _chere_'s beautiful face he sees?" he asked, plainly not prepared to have any company in his imprisonment. "Why would EM lock him up wit' his teammates?"

Rogue decided that at the moment, the technicality of them not being teammates was the least of their issues and let it slide. "Dunno. Maybe he thinks we're not dangerous," she suggested. "He put Magneto in isolation—Ah think he said he'd put a room together special for him—and Ah think he gave Kurt extra drugs so he wouldn't wake up and port outta here."

Much to her surprise, her fellow southerner grinned. "Den we'd better show dose bastards just how dangerous we can be."

Rogue raised a skeptical eyebrow despite the smirk that rose in response to Remy's statement. "Ah'm open to ideas, swamp rat, cause Ah've been tryin' to figure out how to do exactly that for the past half hour, and so far, Ah've got nothin'."

The devious smile fell off Gambit's face as he appeared to be deep in thought. Rogue tried to emulate, but the way that he wet his lips and furrowed his eyebrows in concentration was inexplicably distracting. Besides, she figured that she'd already taken her turn at trying for escape, and as if to prove her point yanked again at the unyielding metal.

The movement caught Remy's attention. His gaze went from her face (she scowled obligingly) to her hands, and in that moment a look of epiphany spread across his features.

"'M an idiot!" he exclaimed, glancing down at himself as if looking for something.

"Ah'll agree with ya there," Rogue commented, "but what exactly brought on this revelation?"

"If I can just—" he trailed off distractedly, surprising the X-man with his use of first person nonetheless. "_Merde_." His unique eyes snapped up to meet hers. "_Chere_, y' got a bobby pin somewhere in dat stripy hair o' yours?"

"_What_?!" she exclaimed. Of everything Remy could have said, that was the least expected.

"Can't reach my lock picks wit' m' hands like dis," he explained as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "If y' can t'row m' a bobby pin, might be able t' get outta dese cuffs."

"Hold up a second." Rogue tried to decipher his meaning. "You can _pick locks_?"

"'Course I can," Remy responded, speaking as though to a small child. "Y' saw how t'ings are in N'Awlins; what else y' 'spect a t'ief t' learn? Now, y' got a bobby pin or _non_?"

As it turned out, Rogue did not have a bobby pin. What she _did _have was a nail file that she had stuck down the top of her boot. When Gambit learned of this, he had laughed until she threatened to kick the boot into his injured side, but admitted that it would work. Anyway, it wasn't like she kept it there for the sake of vanity; he wasn't the only one who could pick locks, after all (although he was admittedly more skilful at it), and in a pinch it worked well as a weapon if she didn't care to use her powers. Not that he entirely believed her when she explained this.

Maneuvering it into reach was an interesting experience, involving removing her boot with only the use of her feet, shaking the file out of it with the same appendages, and attempting to pop it up into the air so that he could catch it in his teeth (something that she was amazed worked, even after three tries). After that, it was a simple matter of him contorting into a position where his hands could reach it.

"We won't be able to get out, even if you do get your hands free," she pointed out after watching him work for a few minutes. "There's no way to open the door from the inside."

Remy's hands stopped momentarily as he gave her a pointed look, then resumed their delicate work. "T'ink Remy can get de door t'go boom if he tries hard enough."

Rogue rolled her eyes. "Point taken." More quietly, she muttered, "men."

After a few more moments of silence, Gambit made his attempt at conversation. "Have t' say, _chere_, dis ain't exactly de way Remy imagined seein' y' in handcuffs."

Rogue's jaw dropped, not believing that even Remy would say something like that in a situation like this. Of course, she recovered quickly enough.

"You disgusting, perverted, no good swamp rat! Is there nothing that you take seriou—"

Rogue stopped mid-tirade at the sound of shoes in the hallway outside. "_Shit!_" Remy, of course, had already hidden the nail file, goodness knew where, but refused to quail under her harsh glare. "This is your fault, swamp rat," she hissed.

"'M not de one dat started yellin'," he observed quietly, but there was no time to say more as the door swung open.

The man that entered the room paused for a moment after the door had closed to give the captives a measuring look, and that moment was more than long enough to recognize him. This man was clearly in charge; he had been there when Rogue had been ambushed, simply standing there uninterestedly as his cronies had done all the dirty work. Even if it wasn't for his air of authority, the feeling that seemed to emanate from him—a feeling of utter dread, a feeling that made Rogue want to run and keep running—would be enough to remove all doubts of who he was.

EM.

It wasn't right, it seemed to Rogue, that someone so evil could be so…beautiful. Because there was no other word for it. His face was flawless, his eyes an intense green behind a pair of chic glasses. His brown hair fell to just above his jaw, and although he was almost certainly shorter than Remy the way he carried himself made him seem like a giant.

But there was something about that beauty that was impure. Rogue had heard old fairy tales about evil queens bathing in the blood of a hundred virgins to maintain their youth. This was the kind of beauty that she had no doubt she would forever envision in tandem with those fairy tales.

It was the kind of beauty that both made her recoil in disgust and yet drew her in at the same time. It was somehow entrancing…his skin seemed to glow and ripple with light…In spite of herself, Rogue leaned forward to see him in better detail.

A small noise called her attention to Gambit, who was just finishing resituating himself. She met his red-on-black eyes and came to herself immediately, and realizing what had just happened blushed slightly. It could only have been a few moments that she had been enthralled by EM, but now that she was looking at Remy instead she wondered what could possibly have caused her to become so spellbound, because surely his looks alone couldn't have done it.

A melodious chuckle returned her attention to their capture. "How cute; the silly mutants think they can escape." His voice seemed full of power, and was just as beautiful as the rest of them. Rogue determinedly bit the inside of her cheek to keep from being trapped as she had before. "But I fear that in my laboratory such a thing will not be permitted."

Smiling almost indulgently, EM held out his hand. And then there was the nail file, making its way through the air towards the scientist. Before it dropped into his palm, it seemed to Rogue that the same energy that seemed to envelop the man manipulating it was flowing across the file as well—and it was just as entrancing. Rogue was somewhat relieved to know that it wasn't a feature that was unique to EM's appearance, but not too much.

"Y' a mutant," Remy stated, and in contrast with EM's voice his seemed rough and vulgar. Somehow, though, it was endlessly more alluring in its ordinariness, and the sound so much more comforting.

"So bright, my Cajun friend," Em declared, sounding for all the world like a proud uncle, but the ironic sneer he wore belied that affected warmth. "Of course, it makes my mission somewhat paradoxical, but it does make it easier to carry out."

"Yeah? And what mission's that?" Rogue demanded, almost wincing at how harsh her own voice sounded, but glad that she wasn't letting his strange, captivating power get to her.

"Hm?" EM seemed to have forgotten that there was someone else in the room. "Ah yes, the girl with some fight to her. Do you know, you're the only one of your teammates that did not exhibit your power? I'd be curious to learn what kind of ability someone with as much fight as yourself would manifest."

"You're welcome to find out," she growled, somehow managing to glare at the man. It was so easy to forget the evils he had committed in the dance of light across his figure…

"I think we'll leave that for another time," he told her pleasantly. "For now—"

"Y'r mission." Remy's words were blunt and pointed at the same time. "Y' gonna tell us what 'xactly y' after, an' why we're here."

"I am, am I?" He seemed amused that Gambit was telling him what to do, which Rogue supposed was better than the alternative. "Well, since you're so eager to know…I want to wipe out the scourge of mutants that has arisen across our fair planet. No price is too high to pay."

And with a jolt, Rogue remembered exactly why they were in this situation, what they were trying to stop, and what EM stood for. No matter how beautiful his power was—whatever it was—its beauty was not worth giving up this fight. The hatred for him that had abated with his appearance returned in full force.

"Of course, I'll have to die myself once I'm sure my services are no longer necessary," EM was continuing, "but for now my powers are too valuable to destroy. After all, stripping mutants of the very energy that makes them mutants, turning that energy against them—what better way of obliterating them than that?"

Rogue's insides had gone cold. Stripping energy and turning it against its source…the description of his power seemed eerily similar to her own.

"But while I am able, I am more than happy to use science to further my ends." This statement was made with an icy smile, a smile that took pleasure in the death of thousands. "I must say I'm glad you dropped by; I haven't had live mutant subjects for quite some time. So if you'll excuse me, I must make some arrangements for you and your friends."

EM was gone almost before she realized it, so busy was her mind. So beautiful, so amiable…so utterly _evil_. He was going to use her and her friends as test subjects. Their coming here wasn't going to stop his plague; it was going to help further it.

Rogue and Gambit sat in silence for quite some time, both caught up in their own thoughts. She couldn't get past the idea of being a test subject to _him_. She'd gone past some of the rooms with lab animals; those haunting images refused to leave her mind, only now instead of animals she couldn't stop imagining Kitty or Kurt or herself so completely ruined, mutilated.

A particularly vivid image came to mind of Remy, skin peeled away to expose raw flesh, and she had to bite back the bile rising in her throat. At this point she didn't know what she was imagining and what maladies she had really seen, but nonetheless the image was sickening.

"'Y okay, _chere_?" Remy queried, and she fixed an impressively stable glare on him.

"Ah'm _fine_, swamp rat," was her growled response, but she had to tip her head back to face the ceiling so that the tears welling up behind her eyes would not escape. She would not cry, dammit; Rogue did _not cry_. She was helpless and she had led her teammates to this horrible fate and they couldn't stop EM and she was probably going to die here but she _would not cry_.

"_Chere_." Remy's voice was soft but insistent, and she couldn't help but look at him again, even if it meant a stray tear escaping. ""M not gonna promise dat we gonna get outta here okay, 'cause I don't make promises I can't keep. But I do promise you dat we're not gonna let dis sonofabitch do whatever he's gonna do wit'out puttin' up de best fight we possibly can."

She snorted. "Like that's gonna make any difference."

"It ain't like y' t' give up, Rogue," Remy informed her. "De Rogue I know wouldn't let a few handcuffs an' a mad scientist tell her what t' do. De Rogue I know wouldn't stop fightin' back 'til her heart stopped beatin'."

Rogue took a deep, steadying breath. Much as she hated to admit it, he had a point; she couldn't just start acting like everything was lost just because the odds were against her. How many times had she shown the odds who was boss, anyway?

"Yeah, and since when do you know me that well?" she demanded, in spite of her agreement with him, because bantering was what they did, and it made her feel better.

"Y' know _chere_, when y're in mortal peril y're supposed t' spill your heart an' form a lifelong bond wit' de _homme_ y' happen to be imprisoned wit'."

"Put a sock in it," she replied half-heartedly, then froze. "That's it!"

"Y' finally realized dat Remy's de man o' your dreams?"

"Socks!" she exclaimed, occupying her bootless foot with freeing the other.

"_Quoi_?" Gambit seemed as puzzled as she had been at his bobby pin idea. "What socks got t' do wit' y' bein' madly in love wit' Remy?"

"Ah'm choosin' to ignore that comment," Rogue informed him, finally getting the boot off with one final flick of her ankle (although the footwear went flying and very nearly brained her foster brother). "Listen Remy, do you think you can get EM to come in here again?" she asked as she started to shimmy her left sock off. "Or even one of the other scientists?"

"_Mais oui_, but Remy still don't…" he trailed off as she brandished her bare foot at him and wiggled her toes. She could almost see the light bulb flick on above his head. The look of appreciation he gave her upon his realization was well worth savoring. "_Chere_," he told her slowly, shaking his head in disbelief, "Remy always t'ought y' were incredible, but now he _knows_ y' brilliant."

In the end they decided that trying for attention too soon after Rogue's previous outburst would be suspicious, and the last thing they wanted was for their captors to be on their guard. So they waited. And they waited. And by the time that one of the scientist-cronies came by to administer Kurt more drugs, Rogue was more than tired of waiting.

The lackey that entered the three mutants' prison was by no means the stereotypical science-nerd; despite the lab coat, he was tall and muscular, and obviously not the type to lose a fight. Rogue felt a swell of pride at the sight of a deepening bruise along his jaw. If that wasn't Kitty's work, she'd eat her ever-so-vital socks.

It wasn't until he was passing between Rogue and Gambit that the latter addressed him.

"Hey, what's an _homme_ gotta do t' make a visit t' de johns?"

As the two had hoped, the man halted with surprise at being talked to. Rogue slouched as far as her bonds would allow her as he made his response.

"That's for EM to decide," he growled unapologetically. "Guess you'll just have to hold it." And with that he turned to continue in his path towards Kurt—but by that point it was too late for him. Rogue thrust one leg into his path, simultaneously pressing her other foot against his unprotected hand. Somehow she maintained contact as he fell, although it took almost all of her concentration to fight back Thomas's—she wished she didn't have to learn his name—Thomas's thoughts and memories.

She didn't pay attention to the thud as he hit the floor, nor to anything else around her. All that occupied her mind was keeping Rogue at the center of her being, sifting through her own little piece of Thomas's mind to find anything that they might need.

Remy was finishing freeing her from her cuffs—with the key rather than lock picks—by the time that she had fixed the route to get to the rest of their team in her mind. She stood up slowly, allowing Remy to put his arm around her waist while her weak legs got used to standing again and she got used to being Rogue again; it was hard to remember that she was _not_ a six foot, muscle-bound man.

It was only reluctantly that she pulled away from his steadiness (she told herself that it was only because she herself was still feeling a little unsteady), but she knew that now that they were free they could not stay there for long. She cast an unhappy glance at her brother.

"There's no way we can take him with us like this, is there?" The thought was upsetting, but until they could secure an out carrying his unconscious form with them would only be a hindrance.

"He'll be alright," Remy reassured her, putting a hand on her shoulder. "De meds should be wearin' off soon, if dat _homme_ was just about to give him more. Den maybe Em'll realize it maybe isn't so easy t' try an' keep _him_ in one place."

"Just…do me a favor and undo his cuffs, would ya?" It wasn't much, she considered as Remy obliged, but at least he would know he wasn't being abandoned.

As soon as that task was done, the two of them set off, following the route Rogue had made sure to imprint in her mind. They came across a number of lackeys on the way, but the pair had the element of surprise and weren't nearly so outnumbered as when they had been ambushed, so it was no hardship to incapacitate them.

It was similarly simple to get into the holding cell of Wolverine, Shadowcat, Jean and Colossus. The instant the door was opened, they were greeted by a feral grin.

"What took ya so long?" Somehow it didn't surprise Rogue that Wolverine was so nonchalant about the whole issue—and somewhat less hearteningly, that Shadowcat was just as unconscious as Nightcrawler. Jean and Piotr, on the other hand, were very much awake and very much glad to see the two Southerners.

Rogue explained the situation as Remy worked on freeing everyone. "Someone needs to get Shadowcat and Nightcrawler out of here while we try to find the cure," she concluded, just as Remy finished up with Logan's bonds.

"Yeah, about that," Wolverine drawled as he stood slowly and stretched, adamantium bones popping as he did so. "I had a little chat with EM myself, and we'd better not waste our time tryin' to find no cure; there is none."

"What?" _"Quoi_?" Remy and Rogue exclaimed in the same moment, both freezing in shock at this news.

"It's true," Jean contributed. "He came in here to gloat, and when Logan brought it up...EM was telling the truth."

Remy cursed under his breath while Rogue stood openmouthed at this unexpected turn of events.

"Perhaps…" Peter began quietly, and they all turned to look at him. "Perhaps we should get Nightcrawler and Magneto and leave this place. We cannot do anything until we have recovered and decided on a new plan of action."

Peter, of course, made perfect sense. As much as Rogue disliked the idea, she had to agree, and she could see the same thoughts passing through the heads of everyone else in the room. Finally Remy nodded and turned back to the last set of shackles: Kitty's.

"Y' right as always, Petey. We not gonna do no one any good in de state we in." Gently he caught Kitty's limp arms as the shackles set them loose, lowering them to her sides before the less kind force of gravity could, and almost immediately Wolverine stepped in to pick her up.

"The sooner we're outta here the better, I say," he stated, and Rogue couldn't help but nod in agreement. She hated the way that this place made her feel…and yet she couldn't stand the thought of leaving EM here to continue doing exactly what he had been.

"I agree," was Jean's contribution. Although it was less than profound, Rogue could see that what was going on here was really getting to her.

Having reached a consensus, the group filed into the hallway. Rogue cautiously took the lead, since thanks to Thomas she was the only one that knew their path well.

They had almost reached Magneto's imprisonment when a sudden chill went down Rogue's spine. Something wasn't right…she knew it wasn't…and suddenly it hit her. They shouldn't be going to rescue Magneto first at all; Magneto could take care of himself for the most part. Kurt, on the other hand, was unconscious and defenseless…and surely by now EM would know that they had escaped.

"Jean!" she shouted, thinking the directions at the telepath as hard as she could, as well as a brief explanation of her logic. Without any more warning, she spun in the opposite direction and sprinted back the way that they had come. On the periphery of her awareness she could tell that Remy had followed her, but that was the least of her worries at the moment.

She had abandoned her brother. Of course he wasn't her real brother, and the mother that they shared was the last person Rogue wanted to be connected with, but he was the closest thing to a real family that she had right now. She felt certain that he would never have left her behind like she had left him. If something happened to him, it would be entirely her fault. Guilt and adrenaline swirled together in her belly, making her feel ill, but she knew that she could not stop in this mad dash to save him.

A restraining hand on her shoulder caused her to whirl, fist already halfway through the motions of a punch, only to have it caught in a warm, callused hand.

"_Chere_, what's goin' on?" Gambit demanded, face serious. He barely seemed effected by the run. She wondered what had caused the abrasions and burn marks radiating from his wrist, but at the moment it was unimportant.

"We've gotta get to Kurt," she told him breathlessly, voice panicked. That was enough. Her hand still in his, they resumed their race to get to her brother.

It should not have surprised her that EM and a swarm of his cronies was already waiting for them outside of their former prison, but somehow, it did. It devastated her. It was like a nightmare that had come to life…

"We were expecting you," EM called smugly from down the hall, his crystalline voice echoing beautifully.

She could see Kurt behind him, strapped to a sinister gurney, a few scientists just finishing giving him some sort of injection. She could also tell that he was awake, terror widening his eyes so that even from so far away she could see the whites. She met those horrified eyes and could read in them a desperate plea for help—one that could not escape his gagged mouth.

And suddenly all the beauty in the world was not enough to keep her from restraining her rage and loathing.

"Y'all are gonna pay," she growled, and despite their quietness those four words conveyed all the menace in her being.

Without warning she charged at the group of men, pure fury in every step. Of course Remy was right beside her, but she wasn't worried about him; he could take care of himself. She hadn't counted the number of men that EM had with him, but she knew that no number of them would be able to keep her from getting to Kurt. And if EM lay in her path—so much the better.

For once anger and desperation did not make her sloppy. All her practice with Logan and with the Acolytes was finally paying off; each motion was a force of habit, made stronger by her emotion. Her mind wheeled far more quickly than any of the men she was fighting could move—and really, why were there no women here?—she had time to wonder between blocking a punch and delivering a particularly devastating kick.

Her mind was not truly on the battle, though. All that mattered was getting to Kurt before it was too late—too late for what, she didn't dare imagine.

She could sense Remy fighting his way through the mayhem, a glowing card here and there assisting his efforts. She could tell that his injuries from before were hindering him, but he was ready for anything that came at him. For a few brief moments they fought back to back, working in perfect harmony, and then EM's voice could be heard above the clamor.

"You know, this is really growing dull. I believe your dear blue friend here shall provide so much more entertainment…once I get him in the laboratory, of course."

Rogue wasn't sure, but she felt that she could classify the sound that issued from her mouth as a roar. Her body was growing sore, limbs weak with exhaustion, breath burning her throat…but at that her efforts were redoubled. There was no way that she was about to let this bastard get his hands on her little brother. Her eyes met Remy's briefly, then with a curt nod, he pushed his way through the crowd trying to restrain him, towards EM.

Her opponents were dwindling in number. There were only three of them left, but some of their predecessors had delivered some painful blows, and the fight was taking its toll on her. It was a bit of a relief that they did not seem to have any more of the sedative that they had previously used on her; otherwise she knew she would not have stood a chance. She briefly considered removing her gloves, but knew that it would take vital seconds for her to get them off, seconds that she could not spare.

One grabbed her around the stomach, lifting her off her feet. She struggled against his restraining arms as the other two moved in for the kill. In this situation, it was impossible to think that she could focus on anything but her imminent doom…

But in those seconds that she could see above her assailants' heads, she watched as EM used his strange power to ram Gambit into the wall, watched as cracks laced the same wall from the force of EM's attack, watched as Gambit's head lolled forward, blood dripping from his mouth, watched as his body fell to the ground lifelessly. Only a few brief seconds…

"_REMY!_" she shrieked, all thought to her current position forgotten until a strong fist drove itself into her stomach, and an equally strong arm delivered a dizzying blow to her head.

She fought to maintain consciousness as the man holding her allowed her fall to the ground. She struggled for control of her vision as blackness kept threatening to take it over. She had to stay awake…for Kurt…for Remy…but she was just so tired, and the blackness was just so inviting…

"You see, my dear, it is quite useless to try to escape," EM told her, but she couldn't focus on his voice. Remy was… And Kurt was… She recognized that this man with the beautiful face and the beautiful voice was talking to her, but his words made no sense.

Neither did his fashion, come to think of it. His shoes were very nice, but they were brown, and his pants were black, and his socks were black. Really very bad taste…didn't he know that you never wear brown shoes with black socks and black pants? Actually, his socks weren't working very well. Weren't they supposed to stay where you put them? These socks were bunching up. When he shifted his weight, she could see skin between them and the bottom of his pants. Was that safe procedure in a laboratory?

Rogue's exhausted brain latched onto that idea. There was something important about his socks…about socks in general, actually. Put a sock in it… Suddenly, Rogue was lucid again. Slowly, ever so slowly, she started easing off one single glove, keeping half of her mind on what EM was trying to monologue about to make sure that he didn't realize that she was trying to do something.

"Your dear friend with the unusual eyes thought that he could best me…and of course it's obvious how that turned out. Surely you will not repeat his mistakes. After all, it is quite apparent that none of your lot can best the likes of me, is it not?"

"At least…we…" Rogue gritted out, glaring up at him despite her position sprawled on the floor, "have…fashion sense."

She didn't give EM a chance to respond before she stretched her bare hand out—and grabbed his ankle, right above that slouching black sock.

At first he tugged at his leg in annoyance, not realizing what was happening to him. Then the tugs became more desperate as his power began to rush into her, but she refused to let go. Her hand gripped his ankle tightly even as he lost his balance, even as she could feel that his energy was draining away quickly. Every moment that she did not let go, she grew stronger, and he weaker.

It took longer for him to fall unconscious than most of her victims—perhaps because he had more power to spare, or perhaps not. It took all her will power to let go of him, not knowing whether she had killed him, and not particularly caring.

She struggled to her knees, the task made easier by the profusion of power now racing through her body. There was so much power, so much information. Something in her felt unbalanced…not her body, but in her mind. None of that mattered though.

Drunkenly, she staggered over to the gurney Kurt was fixed to, and undid his bonds. The sight of him breathing, although now unconscious, was almost enough to make her finally give in to the temptation of unconsciousness that still lurked at the back of her mind…but there was still something that she had to do.

She finally sank down next to Remy, and immediately sent a distress call to Jean with no way of knowing whether or not it had been heard. He had struggled to a sitting position against the wall and his eyes were open, but he was obviously in pain, blood-drenched by wounds both new and reopened. She gave him a watery smile, not even realizing when her eyes began to leak.

Even if none of his injuries had damaged vital organs, it was obvious that blood loss would soon be a serious danger. There was the matter of his head, too; Rogue was not convinced that it was only a concussion—her experience with injuries told her that there was a good chance that he had internal bleeding, too. If that was the case, the situation was very, very bad if the other X-men didn't arrive very soon. Still, there was nothing she could do either way—but either way, she couldn't let him go unconscious.

"Hey, Swamp Rat, the others're gonna be here soon, so stick with me here," she demanded, but the command lacked force.

"Who said anyt'ing 'bout leavin'?" he responded, the strength of his voice reassuring. "Y' should know by now Remy's head's too hard t' let a silly tap like dat get to him."

"Really, Remy, ya make it too easy for me," she informed him, and was rewarded with an echo of that familiar, easygoing grin. Soon, though, the grin faded, and his expression became pensive.

"Hey Chere, y' do Remy a favor?" he inquired. Rogue pretended to think about this concept, although in the current situation there was really no doubt as to her answer.

"That depends on what exactly y'all want." Here she sat back and crossed her arms, but by this point she was only going through the motions.

"Kiss me."

There was a pregnant pause.

Rogue knew that if there was anything in her power to do, she would have it done in a heartbeat. But not this. Had he forgotten? She was literally untouchable! In a question of what she wanted to do, well…he might have stood a chance. In his present condition, though—

Their eyes were locked.

"Ah'd kill ya." She was blunt. There was no way to sugarcoat it, and this was not the time for sugarcoating anyway. She felt that there had never been a moment that her curse had stung more than this right here, right now.

"Chere." Remy's voice was blunt as well, his usually mirth-filled eyes dead serious. "We both know dat if I don't get help soon, 'm not long for dis world. May not like it, but dat's de truth. If 'm gonna get m' sorry ass off dis eart', I can't t'ink of a better way t' do it dan here, wit' you. So, River Rat, y' gonna kiss m' or _non_?"

This time she could feel the tears spill out of her eyes. She barely trusted her voice not to give out, or to rebel and start wailing uncontrollably.

Still, she managed to choke out the words "Anytime, Swamp Rat."

Rogue was not one that could judge kisses with any confidence, but she was pretty sure that these were not ideal conditions for one. Remy was probably dying, and his mouth tasted like blood and she was sure that hers tasted of tears and sweat. Even so, she savored the wonderful feeling of his lips against hers, and wondered if she would ever feel this again, and waited for her powers to kick in.

The kiss had been going on for what seemed like a long time—although it probably hadn't even been a minute—and had gotten much deeper than she had expected it would—her hands carefully holding his face to hers, his arms weakly around her waist, and both of them seriously considering making it French—when it hit her.

She pulled back suddenly, shock completely enveloping her expression.

"Remy," she whispered significantly, "It's not happenin'. I'm not drainin' ya." She sat silently for a moment, letting this information sink in, almost unable to process it after all the events she had gone through in the past twenty-four hours.

"My powers are gone." A slow grin spread across her face, and just to prove that she could, she kissed him again.

"Dis mean y' gonna be kissin' Remy more often?" he asked with a smirk as soon as she was done with him. She sat back and crossed her arms, giving him a half-hearted glare.

"Let's focus on gettin' ya outta here alive first, all right sugah?" The sarcasm was back, but good-natured. How could it be anything but good-natured? The odd, off-balance feeling in her mind finally made sense. But she had to focus now; Remy's situation really was serious.

"Remy'll drink t' dat," he conceded, apparently unfazed by the fact that there was nothing to drink at hand.

"Vhere do you vant to go?"

In all the years that it had been occurring, Rogue could honestly say that she had never been so happy to have Kurt intrude on a personal moment.


	19. Denouement

A/N: The last chapter at long last. It may be short, but hopefully it's sweet…I've never been too good at endings, but hopefully all your questions will be answered. I'd like to make a shoutout to those few of you that have hung in there since the beginning, four years ago…You rock! And if you've been reading and haven't reviewed yet, here's your last shot!

On with the show!

Epilogue

Denouement

Rogue surfaced from the depths of sleep slowly, taking time to fix the residual images of dreamland in her memory. In the two days since she and the others had been safely returned to the Xavier Institute, she had had more than a few memorable dreams.

Except that they weren't really dreams. In truth they were bits and pieces of EM's memory that she hadn't been able to process immediately after she absorbed him. Now that some time had passed these memories were fading, but what she had already pieced together from them and the other knowledge she had obtained from the evil mastermind was more than enough to understand what was going on.

She looked around her room with bleary eyes, relishing the feeling of waking up slowly after getting enough sleep. This was only the first night that she had been allowed to stay in her and Kitty's room since her return—even if there wasn't really anything wrong with her.

In fact, she reflected as she began to get dressed, nothing had ever been so right. Her powers were remaining dormant for the most part, and although there had been a few very minor flickers of absorption here and there, she had every intention to relish her newfound ability to touch for every moment that it lasted. Mr. McCoy hypothesized that the sudden onslaught of such an overabundance of energy had "short circuited" her powers: they had overstretched their limits in trying to take in so much, and would not be able to take in much more until they had sufficiently recovered from the strain. If the way EM's powers refused to fade was any evidence, that recovery was still a ways off.

She froze for a moment as a splash of color on her nightstand caught her attention. She barely even needed to get closer to see that the small rectangle propped against the lamp was a playing card bearing the Queen of Hearts, but she still crossed the room to be sure of it. With a small frown she snatched it up and stuffed it in the back pocket of her jeans. There was no doubt as to who had left it, and if that maddening Cajun thought that just because she had kissed him he could come waltzing into her room while she was asleep…

Although she had to admit that it was probably something that he would have done whether she had kissed him or not.

Still, she had responsibilities to take care of, and she would not give that Swamp Rat the pleasure of being the first on her list, even if it was just to yell at him. She allowed herself a smirk as she left her room. Yes, she'd give him a nice, _long_ wait—after all, she knew no better way to frustrate him than to ignore him.

It was a strange feeling, to leave so much of her skin bare. The movement of air across her bare flesh felt so wonderful as she made her way to the medical wing. More than that, she felt _free_, unrestrained. It was so strange that this was everyone got to feel every day of their lives, took for granted every day of their lives….But not her. She would savor it for as long as it lasted.

Still, as she entered the Beast's domain, she braced herself for human contact. She might love it, but after so much time avoiding it, she had to admit that it was unnerving. And she would probably encounter it here.

It seemed that at least half of the Institute had taken up residence in the medical wing shortly after her return. Of course there were those that had joined the crusade against EM (excluding Logan, of course), but if you added to that the X-men that had caught EM's illness, and the mutants that had volunteered to help Hank, _and_ all the visitors, the mansion's hospital had easily been the busiest part of the building. Now that a week had passed it had emptied out somewhat, but there were still several residents—namely, those that were recovering from the "SPD".

She exchanged a cordial nod with Mr. McCoy as they passed one another, but even if she had wanted to talk he was up to his elbows in things he had to do.

Rogue headed straight towards the room the Professor was staying in. It had been rattling to realize that even he was mortal; he had been among the first at the mansion to come down with EM's disease, and as a result was still one of the weakest inhabitants of the med bay. He had only woken up from the coma it had put him in two days ago. Still, he had insisted that she keep him up to date with her gleanings from EM's mind as soon as he knew what was going on.

"Hey Professor, how ya feelin'?" she asked as she perched on the edge of a bedside chair.

"Quite a bit better, actually," he replied with that paternal smile of his. "And it seems that you are, as well."

She flashed a grin at him. "Hey, Ah'm outta the med bay, my powers are still down, what's not to be happy about?"

"I'm glad to hear it." He hesitated a moment before adding, "Rogue, I don't want to get your hopes up, but Henry and I have been discussing the matter, and we believe that this may provide the key to gaining control over your powers. Perhaps when I've recovered more…"

"Ah'm used to not gettin' my hopes up, Professor. You just worry about checkin' outta here." She tried to sound nonchalant, but couldn't hold back the smile that tugged at the corners of her lips. Logically she knew that she was just setting herself up for disappointment again, and yet some part of her felt that Xavier was right—not just that she _could_ win control, but that she _would_.

"I'll do my best," he told her with an amused smile. "Am I to take it that there is no news?"

"None that changes the story, anyway," she agreed, trying hard to keep herself from thinking of the more grotesque of the scenes from her dreams.

Together, she and the Professor had worked out the key points of the entire episode with EM. EM had been deceiving Magneto the whole time, developing a way to destroy mutants instead of humans—a way that was not, in fact, a disease. EM had instead found a way to use small mechanical devices to employ his powers from afar, allowing him to sap energy from mutants hundreds of miles away. The more power he gained, the more devices he was able to operate, causing the "disease" to spread. In fact, everything about Remy spreading and/or releasing the disease was completely fabricated to manipulate Magneto and the X-men.

EM was able to store up the energy that he leeched in his body and use it to do almost anything. But when Rogue absorbed him, he lost control of the things giving him energy—and the "disease" was "cured".

Rogue had put him in a coma—probably one that he would never awake from. Somehow, she couldn't make herself feel remorse—especially when she considered that EM had been trying to develop a _true_ disease that would accomplish his ends. Logan or Xavier or someone had gotten some sort of government organization (most likely SWORD or HYDRA or something along those lines) to destroy the lab so that those findings would never be discovered by the wrong person.

Rogue tried to focus on these facts and tune out EM's personal life—because she had no desire at all to feel sympathy for this crazed mass murderer. That didn't mean that knowledge didn't exist in the back of her mind, but she was doing her best to forget it entirely.

In short order, Rogue's conversation with Xavier drew to a close, and she left the med bay as quickly as was possible. She had been kept in there far too long for her liking; although she had been allowed to move about the mansion freely for the past few days, she had still been forced to spend the night in case of any unexpected manifestations of EM in her sleep. Beast was finally convinced of her safety since she hadn't unconsciously used his power since the first night after their encounter, but six straight nights in this place was six nights too many.

The kitchen was her next stop. She briefly inspected a muffin to make sure that it wasn't of Kitty's making, then took a seat on the counter to finish her breakfast. She thanked her lucky stars that she was just finishing when she heard the telltale sounds of two of her female teammates approaching, engaged in an apparently engrossing conversation.

"So I told him he should just mind his own business," Kitty was saying as she entered the kitchen with Amara. That line was just too irresistible.

"Oh yeah, like you're one to talk," Rogue cut in with a smirk, jumping down from the counter, secretly marveling at the texture of the empty paper muffin cup under her hands as she went to throw it out.

"Hey Rogue, I didn't know you were up," Kitty exclaimed, apparently disregarding her sarcastic comment. Kitty had been looking somewhat under the weather since they had gotten back from EM's lab, mostly as a result of a bad reaction to the drugs that had been used to keep her sedated.

"Look, I'm going to go find Jubilee," Amara informed them. "Later."

Rogue sighed as she watched Magma's retreat. Amara and Jubilee weren't speaking to her because they were convinced that she and Remy were an item and thought she was undeserving and/or had stolen him. It was such a trivial thing to be upset about in her opinion—especially since there was nothing going on between her and the Swamp Rat.

"She's just jealous," Kitty pointed out cheerily, proving Rogue's mental point.

"Of what? There's nothing to be jealous _of_," Rogue informed her irritably. She started walking, just for the sake of walking.

"Well, you _did_ kiss Remy, didn't you?" Why did Kitty always seem to fixate on such unimportant details?

"I should never have told you that," the Southerner grumbled.

"But you did," Shadowcat chirped gleefully. "And even if you hadn't, it's like _so_ obvious that the two of you have a _thing_."

"A thing," she repeated skeptically. "How amazin'. My world will never be the same because Remy and Ah have 'a thing.'"

"Remy certainly hopes so."

Rogue closed her eyes in defeat. She should have known. She really should have known. After all, he did have a habit of turning up at the most annoying time possible—why not now that he and Peter were living at the institute? She wondered briefly if he just lurked, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Kitty giggled a little too happily for Rogue's liking. "I think I'm gonna, like, go catch up with Amara or something. Bye!"

Rogue couldn't help feeling a sense of abandonment as Kitty strolled back down the hallway the way they had come.

"So why don't y' tell Remy 'xactly what kind of a t'ing y' an' him have," the Cajun suggested with that infuriating smirk.

"Easy," Rogue retaliated, picking up her pace with a purpose. "He annoys me, Ah kick his butt. Nothin' to it."

"Dat stings, _chere_," he lamented, a comically tragic expression on his face. "After all we been t'rough…"

It was strange. Somehow, Remy wasn't quite so annoying anymore. She found herself being more amused than fed up with all the banter…She wondered whether that was usual for guys that you gave your first real kiss to. Then again, Remy was anything but usual.

"Well, sometimes Ah let him take me on his motorcycle," she conceded with a small grin. Did they have "a thing"? Maybe Kitty was right.

After all, she considered as he acquiesced, she wouldn't let just _any_ guy put his arm around her waist while they walked to the Institute's garage together, now would she?

Besides, Remy had a motorcycle. Having a relationship with him couldn't be as bad as all that.


End file.
